BL2775  .S76  1873 

Strauss,  David  Friediicli,  1808-1874. 

Old  faith  and  the  new  :  a  confession  / 


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THE    LIFE    AND    ^^/VORKS    OF    GOTTHOLD 

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HEISJ-RV    HOLT    &    CO.,    Fubli slier s, 

3  5    I50IVD    ST.,   IVE^V    YORTt. 


The  Old  Faith  and  the  New 


A    CONFESSION    BY 


DAVID  FRIEDRICH  STRAUSS 


AUTHORIZED  TRANSLATION  FROM  THE  SIXTH  EDITION 

BY 

MATHILDE   BLIND 

Two  vohtincs  in  one.     The  traiislaiion  revised  and  partly 

rewritten,  and  preceded  by  an  Ai/ierican  version 

of  the  Author's  ''Prefatory 

Postscript." 

"I  have  never  det^ired,  nor  do  I  now  def^ire,  to 
disturb  the  contentnient  or  the  faith  of  any  one. 
Bu!  where  the!?e  are  already  shaken,  I  desire  to 
point  out  the  direcuon  in  which  I  believe  a 
liimer  soil  is  to  be  found."— pp.  9,  10. 


NEW  YORK 
HENRY   HOLT  AND  COMPANY 

1^73 


Eütfi-fd  accor.liiiL,'  t..  Act  of  Con-ix-s^;.  in  Üu;  yi-ar  187o,  b 

HRXHY  HOLT, 
in  die  Ort'.'-  1)1"  the  Liliraiiau  dl"  Coniirer-s  at  Wa.-?lHni:t<)! 


T/it    .\iirlni r«//i   St r it-vt i/jx-   Co. 


PßEFxiTOPiY  POSTSCRIPT. 

(Translated  hy  J.  Fitzgerald^ 

THE  little  book  wliicli  three  months  after  its  first 
appearance  is  now  about  to  come  before  the 
world  in  a  fourth  edition,  was  originally  left,  and  still 
remains,  without  a  preface.  It  must  speak  for  itself, 
thought  I;  and  in  point  of  fact  it  left  very  little 
room  for  doubt  whether  as  to  its  motive  or  its  object. 
But  so  much  has  been  said  against  it  in  several  quar- 
ters, and  that  with  such  vehemence,  and  in  some 
cases  with  such  force,  that  some  reply  will  be  ex- 
pected from  the  author.  There  is  material  enough 
at  hand  for  a  whole  series  of  polemical  works  on 
subjects  the  most  dissimilar — philosophy  and  theol- 
ogy, natural  and  political  science.  Still,  not  alone 
the  vastness  of  such  an  undertakins^  but  also  the 
very  nature  of  the  matter  in  hand,  requires  that  I 
should  restrict  myself  to  a  narrower  field.  This  is  a 
Confession;  it  does  not  assail  the  position  held  by 
others,  but  only  defends  its  own.  Meanwhile, 
however  briefly  I  may  express  what  I  have  to  say, 
these  pages,  if  appended  to  my  purposely  compend- 
ious work,  would  weight  it  down,  and  therefore  I 


iv  Prefatory  Postscript. 

let  it  go  forth  by  itself.  It  will  serve  not  only  as  a 
preface  to  the  new  edition,  but  also  as  a  postscript 
to  the  readers  of  the  earlier  ones.* 

Lessing,  as  we  know,  was  content  to  be  less  be- 
praised  than  Klopstock,  provided  he  was  more  dili- 
gently read. 

Indeed  we  know  that  he  made  no  objection,  if 
lack  of  approval  now  and  then  was  changed  into 
hearty  disapprobation.  In  such  a  frame  of  mind  as 
that,  I  should.be  perfectly  satisfied  with  the  recep- 
tion my  Confession  of  Faith  has  met  wdth.  Strike, 
but  listen,  exclaimed  the  Athenian  general  and 
statesman  to  his  opponent.  In  truth,  when  a  man 
has  been  condemned  not  without  a  hearing  the  pre- 
sumption that  he  is  innocent  is  so  far  lessened.  If  I 
had  been  condemned  by  all  who  have  read  my  book, 
I  should  be  without  excuse.  But  I  have  reasons 
for  believing  that  such  is  not  the  case.  Over  against 
the  thousands  of  my  readers  stand  a  score  or  so  of 
my  public  accusers — an  inconsiderable  minority — 
and  it  w^ould  be  hard  for  them  to  show  tliat  they  are 
exactly  the  fliithful  interpreters  of  the  former.  If  in 
a  matter  like  this  persons  who  do  not  understand  the 
question  have  been  foremost  in  crying  aloud  while 
those  who  do  understand  have  been  content  with 
quiet  acquiescence,  the  reason  is  to  be  found  in  cer- 
tain circumstances  with  which  we  are  all  familiar.    It 

*  The  German  edition   of  tins  postscript  was  issued  in   a 
small  pamphlet. 


Prefatory  Postscript.  v 

is  all  very  well  to  ask  in  derision  who  are  tlie  we  of 
whom  I  speak ;  but  my  questioners  know  as  well  as 
as  I  do  how  the  matter  stands. 

Here  again  I  make  no  account  of  an  expedient 
which  I  might  turn  to  good  use;  and  such  neg- 
lect might  well  appear  to  be  unpardonable  in  a  lite- 
rary veteran.  The  apostle  Paul  (at  least  as  he  is  rep- 
resented in  the  Acts)  used  other  strategy.  When 
standing  in  presence  of  the  High  Council  at  Jerusa- 
lem, so  soon  as  he  saw  before  him  the  Pharisees  and 
Sadducees,  whilom  enemies,  now  brethren,  banded 
together  against  him,  he  contrived  to  break  up  this 
ominous  coalition  and  to  bring  the  Pharisees  over  to 
his  side,  by  throwing  out  the  assertion  that  his  of- 
fence was  only  this,  that  he  taught  the  resurrection 
of  \hQ  dead.  If  one  were  to-day,  in  imitation  of  the 
Apostle  of  the  Gentiles,  to  declare  before  the  theo- 
logical world  :  ''  It  is  because  of  my  denial  of  Christ's 
godhead  that  these  men  condemn  me,  notwithstand- 
ing that  I  have  no  hesitation  in  acknowledging  the 
man  Jesus  as  Pedeemer  and  Eternal  Head  of  the 
Church  : ''  he  w^ould  secure  himself  against  attack 
from  the  side  of  the  Orthodox  *  of  the  Protestant 
League.  In  like  manner  he  who,  disregarding  the 
reproach  of  materialism,  upholds  the  right  of  Science 
to  explain  the  universe,  man  included,  has  merely  to 
avoid  mention  of  certain  topics,  certain  measures,  if 
he  has  nothing  to   say  in  favor  of  them,  and  he  will 

*  So  the  author.     Q;a.    What  then  is  heterodoxy  ? — Trans. 


vi  Prefatory  Postscript. 

have  nearly  all  tlie  democrats  and  socialists  on  his  side. 
But  what  is  to  be  thought  of  that  man's  judgment 
who  on  every  occasion  knowingly  incurs  the  dis- 
pleasure of  both  sides  and  exposes  himself  to  the 
cross-fire  of  orthodox  and  progressive  theologians; 
of  conservatives  and  socialistic  democrats  %  Well,  be 
the  estimate  of  his  judgment  what  it  will,  his  can- 
dor is  not  to  be  questioned. 

According  to  a  reviewer  in  the  Weser- Zeitung, 
my  book  is  like  a  declaration  of  war  against  the 
Protestant  League  and  the  Old  Catholics.  This  ac- 
cusation is  as  unjust  as  it  well  could  be,  and  I  will 
come  back  to  it  again,  but  it  was  quite  natural  that 
when  once  the  book  was  regarded  in  that  light, 
thereafter  all  those  who  are  of  one  mind  wäth  the 
Protestant  League,  viz.  the  writers  in  the  Deutsche 
Allgemeine  and  the  Weser-Zeitimg,  as  also  the  Old- 
Catholic  professor  who  opened  out  on  me  in  the 
Augsburg  Allgemeine  Zeitung  (to  say  nothing  of  the 
Protestantische  Zeitung)  should  pass  as  unfavorable 
a  sentence  upon  it  as  the  Kreutz- Zeitung  itself  or  the 
Orthodox  Kirchen- Zeitung s.  In  this  respect  some 
Socialist-democratic  periodicals  were  fairer,  inasmuch 
as  they  did  not  suffer  the  indignation  they  felt  at  my 
political  principles  to  prevent  their  appreciation  of 
the  critical  and  philosophical  portion  of  my  book. 
And  if  the  writers  and  publicists  of  that  party  are 
prone  to  employ  in  controversy  a  style  of  language 
which  is  hardly  what  you  might  suppose  to  be  dic- 
tated by  good  taste  or  by  etiquette,  at   least  such 


Prefatory  Postscript.  vii 

manners  are  not  in  contradiction  with  their  funda- 
mental principles.  On  the  other  hand,  we  have  grown 
accustomed  to  similar  language  on  the  part  of  the 
Clericals ;  but  then  we  can  conceive  how  in  their 
eyes  courtesy  and  respect  shown  to  one  who  is  held 
to  be  damned  everlastingly,  must  appear  to  be  simple 
hypocrisy.  Contrariwise  the  educated  middle  party 
are  wont  to  claim  the  credit  of  complying  with  the 
usages  of  respectable  society  even  in  controversy.  If 
on  the  present  occasion  even  they  have  departed  from 
this  policy  in  their  treatment  of  me,  there  must  be 
some  special  reasons  for  the  phenomenon. 

When  I  compare  the  tone  in  which  most  of  the 
criticisms  of  my  latest  work  are  expressed,  with  that 
in  which  for  some  years  past  it  has  been  usual  in  Ger- 
man literature  to  make  reference  to  me,  it  is  not  sur- 
prising that  I  should  be  profoundly  pained  at  the 
sudden  change  that  has  come  about.  After  the  tu- 
mults of  former,  contests  had  subsided,  people  had 
gradually  accustomed  themselves  to  meet  me  with 
some  degree  of  respect ;  on  many  sides  even  I  was 
done  the  unsolicited  honor  of  beino;  ranked  as  a  sort 
of  classical  writer  of  prose.  This  esteem  it  appears 
I  have  now  forfeited  for  good  and  all  by  my  latest 
work;  the  newspapers  think  they  must  address  me 
with  a  lofty  air,  as  though  I  were  some  beginner,  some 
chance  comer.  But  fortunately  this  new  tone  of  the 
press  is  nothing  new  at  all  to  me :  rather  is  it  the  very 
first  greeting  I  received  when  I  entered  on  my  literary 
career  with  the  "  Life  of  Jesus.''     That  I  observe  that 


viii  Prefatory  Postscript. 

same  tone  now,  when  I  am  approaching  tlie  goal,  is 
for  me  a  sign  that,  unlike  many  a  literary  veteran,  I 
am  unchanged,  and  that  I  have  persisted  in  the  line 
of  mj  vocation. 

It  were  affectation  in  me  to  deny  the  profound 
gratification  I  felt  at  the  applause  bestowed  in  all 
quarters  upon  my  books  on  Ulrich  von  Hütten  and 
Voltaire,  or  at  the  warm  approval  with  which  my 
letters  to  Ernest  Eenan  were  greeted  in  every  part  of 
the  German  Fatherland  ;  it  was  a  great  satisfaction 
to  me  to  find  myself  in  harmony  with  my  contempo- 
raries and  countrymen — a  thing  which  after  all  is 
the  object  of  all  honorable  literary  ambition.  And 
yet — people  may  believe  it  or  not  as  they  please,  but 
the  event  shows  that  I  was  not  mistaken — I  had  ever 
with  me  an  inward  monitor  that  said  to  me,  "  such  tri- 
fling is  not  for  you  ;  others  can  do  it  better."  I  do  not 
mean  to  belittle  those  writings  which  have  brought 
me  so  much  valued  sympathy.  It  were  ingratitude 
towards  my  genius,  were  I  not  glad  that  in  addition 
to  a  remorseless  spirit  of  criticism  there  was  also 
given  me  an  innocent  delight  in  artistic  forms.  But 
my  proper  calling  lies  not  in  the  latter  province,  and 
when  by  returning  to  the  former  I  forfeited  those 
S3"mpathies,  I  had  only  to  take  things  as  they  came, 
in  the  full  consciousness  that  I  had  but  done  my 
duty. 

It  is  in  truth  an  ungracious  and  thankless  office  to 
have  to  tell  the  world  what  it  least  wishes  to  hear. 
The  world  lives  with  no  end  of  outlay,  like  some 


Prefatory  Postscript.  ix 

grand  lord ;  takes  and  spends  so  long  as  there  is  any- 
thing to  spend ;  but  let  somebody  reckon  up  the  cost 
and  call  attention  to  the  balance,  and  he  is  regarded  as 
a  mischief-maker.  And  precisely  to  such  office  as  that 
have  I  ever  been  inclined  by  natural  disposition  and 
by  mental  constitution.  Forty  years  ago,  before  my 
Life  of  Jesus  appeared,  the  impression  had  long  been 
looming  up  before  the  minds  of  thoughtful  students 
of  theology,  that  no  such  supernatural  things  could 
have  occurred  in  Jesus'  career  as  were  narrated  in  the 
gospels  and  had  been  believed  by  the  church  down 
to  that  period ;  neither  could  they  believe  in  the  un- 
naturally-natural interpretations  offered  by  the  ration- 
alistic expositors  of  scripture ;  doubts  too  as  to  the 
apostolic  origin  of  the  gospels  and  as  to  the  historical 
character  of  these  writings  in  general  had  sprung  up 
here  and  there.  And  yet  when  I  brought  these 
fragments  of  thought  together  and  showed  that  the 
evangelic  narratives  are  neither  apostolical  nor  histori- 
cal ;  that  the  miracles  they  recount  belong  to  Myth 
rather  than  to  History  ;  that  everything  about  Jesus 
wasinrealityperfectly  natural,  albeit  we  can  not  now 
give  an  account  of  every  circumstance  of  his  life — 
when  in  my  Life  of  Jesus  I  put  all  these  things  to- 
gether in  consecutive  order,  every  one,  young  and  old, 
was  indignant,  and  the  author's  name  "  the  synonym 
for  ev'ry  deed  accurst."  -^ 

Upwards  of  a  generation  passed  away,  and  the 
matter  of  that  work,  after  having  been  in  many  re- 
spects more  accurately  determined,  but  yet  on  the 


X  Prefatory  Postscript. 

whole  simply  confirmed,  by  the  investii^cations  of 
others,  had  forced  its  way  not  only  into  theological 
science,  but  also  into  the  convictions  of  educated  peo- 
ple in  general.  People  began  to  leave  me  and  my 
infidelity  alone,  as  I  left  the  world  and  its  self-de- 
stroying belief  in  peace,  and  the  fruits  of  my  taste 
for  description  and  narration  newly  awakened  during 
this  period  of  calm,  were  received  with  pleasure. 
But  the  further  development  of  Science  again  placed 
me  in  a  position  to  gather  up  the  fragmentary  thoughts 
and  so  give  ofi*ence  again,  for  progress'  sake.  I  had 
now  no  longer  to  deal  with  merely  theological  ques- 
tions, but  to  see  how  I  might  combine  the  conclusions 
reached  in  that  field  with  the  results  especially  of 
Natural  Science.  On  the  one  hand  was  a  Christ,  no 
longer  son  of  God,  but  purely  and  simply  man,  who 
notwithstanding  was  in  a  fair  way  to  be  honored 
forevermore  in  the  church  established  for  the  God- 
man.  On  the  other  hand  men  were  feelino-  them- 
selves  more  and  more  impelled  from  day  to  day,  to  ex- 
plain the  origin  of  the  Universe  in  all  its  complexity 
and  in  its  entire  comprehension  up  to  Man  himself, 
without  the  aid  of  a  Creator,  and  without  the  inter- 
vention of  miracle.  Sundry  investigators  and  ama- 
teurs of  science  have  accepted  these  scientific  results, 
without  a  thought  of  the  consequences  they  must  have 
for  religion  and  theology;  while  on  the  other  hand 
tlieojogians  of  modern  views  have  looked  with  all  the 
indifference  of  laymen,  on  the  rising  flood  of  scientific 
investigation,   and    cared  not  for  their  ecclesiastical 


Prefatory  Postscript.  xi 

groundwork  wliicli  was  imperilled.  ]^ow  snrelj  was 
the  time  to  gather  together  all  these  scattered  thoughts 
— apiece  of  work  possessed  of  such  attractions  for  me 
that  I  could  no  more  forego  it  than  I  could  my  pre- 
vious work.  When  day  by  day  the  prospect  grows 
brighter  for  our  eventually  demonstrating  the  con- 
ditions under  which  life  has  been  developed  in  accord- 
ance with  natural  laws  out  of  what  was  lifeless,  and 
consciousness  out  of  the  unconscious ;  when  further- 
more everything  leads  us  more  and  more  to  conceive 
of  the  Universe,  Being,  as  a  primitive  datum^  which 
we  cannot  do  away  with  even  in  thought ;  what  then 
becomes  of  the  personal  Creator,  who  is  supposed  to 
have  mii-aculously  called  into  being  the  Universe, 
and  then  the  various  orders  of  living  things  ?  Then, 
in  view  of  this  theory  of  a  strictly  natural  evolution 
of  things,  what  becomes  of  the  church,  whose  whole 
system  of  faith  is  based  upon  a  miraculous  begin- 
ning, (creation)  a  violent  interruption,  (fall  of  man) 
and  a  specially  miraculous  resumption  of  the  devel- 
opment of  the  w^orld  and  of  the  human  race '{  (re- 
demption). 

There  is  doubtless  many  a  one  who,  wdiile  noting 
the  problem  here  presented,  and  perhaps  solving  it 
for  himself,  has  passed  it  by  quietly,  and  therein 
shown  his  prudence.  One  must  not  rouse  the  sleep- 
ing lion,  unless  one  is  ready  to  fight  with  him  for  life 
and  death.  Mankind  have  no  doubt  made  great 
advances  iu  civilization.  Not  only  may  one  now-a- 
days  affirm  the  revolution  of  the  earth  around  the 


xii  Prefatory  Postscript. 

sun  without  being  imprisoned  and  pnt  to  the  torture, 
but  one  may  even  deny  the  divinity  of  Christ  with- 
out any  risk  of  being  burned  at  the  stake.  There  is 
a  limit  however.  IS'o  man  is  now  burned  alive  for 
seeing  in  Jesus  only  a  mere  man,  for  refusing  to 
acknowledge  God's  personality,  for  not  believing  in  a 
future  life,  or  for  declining  to  attach  himself  in  the 
present  life  to  any  christian  organization  of  what 
creed  soever :  but  yet  these  things  are  noted  down 
against  him,  and  when  he  brings  his  views  and  the 
arguments  for  them  before  the  public,  he  finds  him- 
self in  disgrace.  He  has  set  himself  above  the  con- 
ventional fashions  of  thought  and  life,  has  offended 
against  good  taste,  and  must  not  be  surprised  if  peo- 
ple in  dealing  with  him  leave  good  taste  out  of 
consideration.  As  an  author  he  is  thenceforth  out- 
lawed ;  he  must  not  expect  ever  again  to  have  shown 
him  what  under  any  other  circumstances  would  be 
his  right  by  a  sort  of  Jus  gentiimi  in  literary  war- 
fare. This  I  learned  by  exj)erience  after  the  publi- 
cation of  my  Life  of  Jesus,  and  this  I  am  now  learn- 
again. 

Here  is  seen  again  how  much  of  our  modern 
civilization  is  made  up  merely  of  forms  of  speech.  Is 
there  anything  that  we  have  heard  oftener  repeated, 
or  witli  greater  emphasis,  for  some  years  past,  than 
this,  that  now-a-days  the  point  is  not  what  a  man 
believes,  but  how  he  behaves ;  as  regards  the  writer, 
not  what  he  teaches  men  to  believe,  but  how  he 
instructs  them  to  act  ?  Yery  well ;  but  now  comes  one 


Prefatory  Postscript,  xiii 

who  takes  all  this  in  earnest,  and  who  sincerely 
believes  that  a  man's  creed  is  no  longer  taken  into 
account.  He  removes  certain  pillars  of  the  Faith, 
which  he  has  found  to  be  in  a  state  of  decay,  without 
however  offering  to  mankind  anything  new  with 
regard  to  moral  conduct ;  simply  exhorting  them 
to  the  practice  of  much  the  same  virtues  they  re- 
garded as  sacred  before,  though  from  somewhat  loss 
selfish  motives.  Surely  the  man  will  not  be  molested 
on  account  of  what  he  has  said,  but  will  be  treated 
with  as  much  respect  as  ever  before.  Undoubtedly 
he  would,  if  our  boasted  liberality  were  anything 
more  than  a  mere  phrase !  On  the  public  highway 
of'literature,  whoever  will  may  load  him  with  abuse. 
I  make  no  complaint,  however,  against  the  gentle- 
men who  write  literary  criticisms.  Accustomed  and 
necessitated  as  they  are  to  live  from  hand  to  mouth, 
they  commonly  think  more  of  delivering  a  brilliant 
judgment  about  a  particular  point,  than  of  appre- 
ciating a  coherent  system  of  the  universe ;  old  and 
new,  faith  and  enlightenment,  are  in  their  minds 
sometimes  wonderfully  harmonized ;  and  owing  to 
the  press  of  occupations  their  brains  become  as  con- 
tracted as  their  closets.  Then,  too,  from  year's  end 
to  year's  end  they  find  themselves  tied  down  to  all 
sorts  of  considerations — deference  to  eminent  Masters, 
or  to  influential  cliques,  or  to  dominant  prejudices, 
etc.,  and  it  must  be  a  real  pleasure  for  them  to  come 
across  a  writer  whom  they  may  treat  sans  ceremonie, 
whom  they  may  abuse  to  their  hearts'  content,  with 


xiv  Prefatory  Postscript. 

the  full  consent  of  tlie  mass  of  their  readers.  But  as 
I  have  said,  I  do  not  complain  of  these  gentlemen, 
though  I  cannot  esteem  it  either  brave  or  generous, 
to  attack  a  man  just  because  the  bystanders  will  not 
'  lift  a  hand  to  save  him. 

Thus  then  a  number  of  critics  have  again  enjoy- 
ed hearty  satisfaction  at  my  expense.  Their  contest 
with  me  exalts  them  into  the  cheeriest  frame  of  mind, 
so  easily  is  it  carried  on  under  existing  circumstan- 
ces. One  need  not  be  particular  as  to  the  thrusts  he 
makes  at  his  adversary,  when  partial  galleries  are 
the  judges  of  the  combat.  For  instance,  when  I  ob- 
serve, with  regard  to  Jesus'  teaching,  among  other 
l^oints  this,  that  instead  of  ennobling  the  acquisition 
of  wealth  by  subordinating  it  to  higher  aims,  it 
spurns  it  in  advance,  and  evinces  no  conception  of-its 
I  agency  in  promoting  civilization  and  enlightenment — 
\one  has  only  to  say  with  Herr  Dove  that  I  "  expect 
the  founder  of  a  religion  to  give  counsel  about  mon- 
ey-matters," or,  with  still  finer  wit,  to  speak  of  "  Je- 
sus' hopeless  unfitness  to  be  a  dealer  in  stocks  ;''  and 
then  of  course  I  am  sent  to  the  ground  amid  the 
boisterous  applause  of  the  npper  tier.  Another 
case :  the  man  who  does  not  see  that  what  I  say 
about  Lessing  in  section  86  comes  warm  from  the 
heart,  must  be  very  obtuse.  I  Avill  venture  to  say, 
Herr  Hove  is  nothing  of  the  kind,  and  yet  he  has 
the  face,  while  enjoying  a  little  sport  at  my  expense, 
to  talk  of  my  ''  bowing  and  scraping  before  Lessing." 
And   not  alone   the  promising  young  man  who  in 


ri'cfatory  Postscript.  xv 

sncli  sprightly  fiisliion  handles  the  helm  of  the  Im 
Neuen  lielch,  but  even  the  sedate  old-catholic  profess- 
or of  Philosophy  who  writes  for  the  Allgemeine  Zei- 
tung adopts  the  same  tone  when  dealing  with  me. 
When,  with  a  view  to  deter  men  from  the  commis-* 
sion  of  certain  crimes,  I  favor  the  retention  of  the 
death  penalty,  the  professor  playfully  insists  that  the 
same  argument  would  justify  the  barbarous  practice 
of  putting  criminals  to  death  slowly — a  punishment 
which  would  inspire  far  greater  terror  than  instan- 
taneous death.  I  am  confident  that  in  his  heart  Herr 
Huber  knows  very  well  that  this  does  not  follow,  and 
that  besides  death,  that  ultima  linea  rerum,  nothing 
more  is  needed  to  inspire  fear — least  of  all  anything 
which,  by  blunting  human  feeling,  would  produce  as 
much  mischief  in  the  contrary  direction,  as  simply 
capital  punishment  could  produce  good  :  all  this,  I 
say,  Herr  Huber  of  course  knows  perfectly  well,  but 
still  he  judges  the  argument  good  enough  to  employ 
against  his  esteemed  adversary.  If  my  memory  is 
not  at  fault  it  is  the  reviewer  of  the  Hamburg  Corre- 
spondent who  has  so  low  an  opinion  of  my  book 
that  he  says  it  is  just  the  thing  to  read  over  your 
coffee  and  cigar.  "Well,  it  was  never  composed  amid 
such  surroundings,  and  I  will  not  venture  to  decide 
whether  they  would  help  a  man  in  the  understanding 
of  it ;  but  the  utterances  of  the  critics  are  to  a  great 
extent  of  such  a  kind  as  to  justify  one  in  thinking 
that  they  are  not  unconnected  with  coliee  and  cigars. 
The  English  Premier  does  not  appeal'  to  have  taken 


xvi  Prefatory  Postscript. 

np  my  book  in  so  trifling  a  spirit,  for  not  long 
since  he  found  it  worth  his  while,  in  a  speech  de- 
livered at  Liverpool,  to  controvert  its  positions  at 
length.  Mr.  Gladstone  has  not  understood  me  quite 
correctly,  and  attacks  me  after  a  fashion  which  even 
to  many  of  my  German  critics  will  appear  weak ; 
but  my  countrymen  might  learn  from  this  foreigner 
how  the  earnest  candid  statesman  recos^nizes  earnest- 
ness  and  candor  even  in  a  writer  whose  work  he  re- 
gards as  pernicious,  and  how  the  true  gentleman  speaks 
of  a  man  who,  as  he  must  admit,  has  devoted  a  long 
life  to  the  investigation  of  truth  and  sacrificed  to  the 
profession  of  what  appears  to  him  to  be  truth,  all  his 
prospects  in  life.  In  like  manner,  what  the  Daily 
News  says  in  opposition  to  Gladstone's  speech,  shows 
more  understanding  and  more  genuine  tact  than  any- 
thing  that  has  yet  appeared  in  German  publications 
with  reference  to  my  book.* 

Inasmuch  as  my  renunciation  of  the  current  reli- 
gion is  based,  indirectly  at  least,  on  the  data  of  J^at- 
ural  Science,  the  aim  of  my  opponents  must  be  to 
remove  that  ground  from  under  me  and  to  show  that 
the  great  authorities  in  that  department  of  knowledge 
are  by  no  means  on  my  side.  Almost  simultaneously 
with  my  work  appeared  Dubois-Eeymond's  essay  on 
the  Limits  of  Natural  Science,  and  in  various  quar- 
ters this  was  held  up  before  me  like  Minerva's  shield 

*  The  "  Kritik  gegen  Kritik"  {criticism  vs.  criticism)  of  the 
Allgemeine  -^eiY///?^,  and  tlie  notice  in  the  Deutsche  Presse  came 
to  hand  only  after  these  pages  were  written. 


Prefatory  Postscript.  xvii 

with  tLe  Gorgon's  head.  Herr  Dove,  in  alhision  to 
that  work,  adopts  for  his  review  of  my  book,  the  motto, 
"  Confession  or  Discretion  % '' — as  thongh  he  should 
say :  Look,  good  reader  :  on  the  one  side  you  have  a 
great  Student  of  N'ature,  who  is  so  modest  and  dis- 
creet as  to  say  that  his  knowledge  extends  to  a  certain 
point,  and  who  lets  you  believe  as  you  please  beyond 
that  limit ;  and  on  the  other  side  a  reputed  philosopher 
who,  regardless  of  such  limitations,  would  push  his 
confession  of  infidelity  out  beyond.  This  limitation 
established  by  Dubois-Keymond  Herr  Dove  holds 
himself  justified  in  calling  by  the  flattering  title  of 
"a  Kantian  performance."  In  Kant's  times  too, 
there  were  not  wanting  individuals  who  welcomed 
the  critical  limitation  of  the  Reason,  in  hopes  that 
now  on  the  outer  side  of  the  boundary  they  could 
without  hindrance  chase  every  phantom  of  ancient 
faith  and  superstition.  Of  course  Kant  himself 
would  have  nothing  to  do  with  this  kind  of  adherents ; 
the  Critic  of  Reason  had  no  thought  of  ever  promo- 
ting the  interests  of  stagnant  reason.  In  like  manner 
I  doubt  if  Dubois-Reymond  ever  intended  to  leave 
room  outside  of  the  line  he  has  drawn,  not  only  for 
ancient  dualism,  but  also  for  his  young  admirer's 
dreams  about  the  pre-existence  and  transmigration 
of  souls. 

At  least  the  fundamental  proposition  of  all  Dual- 
ism viz. :  the  regarding  of  body  and  soul  as  two  dif- 
ferent substances  appears  to  our  Scientist  as  purely 
erroneous.     In  conclusions  so  utterly  at  variance  with 


xvlii  Prefatory  Postscript. 

the  reality  as  the  Cartesio-Leibnitzian  theories  wi*h 
regard  to  the  concurrence  of  mind  and  body  he  recog- 
nizes "  an  apagogical  demonstration  against  the  cor- 
rectness of  the  suppositions  which  led  to  them." 
With  Fechter  he  thinks  that  in  his  simile  of  two 
watches  Leibnitz  forgot  one  very  simple  supposition, 
viz :  that  possibly  the  two  watches  whose  concordant 
motion  is  to  be  explained,  are  after  all  only  one. 
The  deriyation  of  the  organic  from  the  inorganic  Da- 
bois-Eeymond  holds  to  be  scientifically  demonstrable, 
as  I  gather  from  his  earlier  writings.  "It  is  a  mis- 
take," says  he  in  his  latest  essay,  "to  see  in  the  first 
appearance  of  living  beings  on  the  earth  anything 
supernatural  or  indeed  an^^thing  more  than  an  ex- 
tremely difficult  problem  in  mechanics."  So  then 
the  limit  of  our  knowledge  of  Kature  is  not  here ; 
but  there  is  a  point  where  the  thread  is  broken,  where 
we  must  acknowledge  our  ignorance,  our  enduring 
ignorance  eyen.  That  point  is,  where  consciousness 
comes  in  ;  not  the  consciousness  of  the  human  mind, 
but  consciousness  in  its  widest  sense,  includino:  its 
lowest  grades. 

"  Essentially,"  says  he,  almost  in  the  words  of 
;Yoltaire,  "  it  is  no  more  difficult  to  conceiye  of  the 
most  exalted  mental  activity,  than  of  the  lowest 
"grade  of  consciousness,  sensation,  as  being  the  result 
of  material  conditions :  with  the  first  feeling  of  pleas- 
ure or  pain  experienced  at  the  beginning  of  animal 
jlife  by  the  most  elementary  creature,  an  impassable 
chasm  was  made." 


Prefatory  Postscript.  xlx 

There  are  three  points  in  the  ascending  evolu- 
tion of  Nature  to  which  more  particularly  the  note  of 
the  Inconceivable  appears  to  attach.  The}^  are  the 
three  questions:  How  did  the  living  spring  from  the 
lifeless,  the  sensible  from  the  senseless,  the  reasoning 
from  the  irrational? — and  they  all  three  ecpially 
baffle  the  mind,  and  extort  from  it  the  old  explica- 
tion for  all  perplexities,  God.  The  scientist  of  whom 
we  are  speaking,  holds  as  we  have  seen,  that  the 
difficulty  as  to  the  first  point  is  not  insuperable — the 
evolution  of  the  organic  out  of  the  inorganic  appears 
to  him  conceivable.  At  one  time,  as  he  tells  us,  he 
thought  he  recognized  the  limit  of  our  knowing  only 
in  the  third  point,  i.  e.,  in  the  problem  of  free-will, 
which  would  be  a  corollary  of  Reason.  At  that  time 
therefore,  the  second  problem,  that  of  consciousness 
or  sensation,  must  have  been  held  by  him  capable  of 
solution. 

I  am  very  sure  that  a  man  of  science  like  Dubois- 
Keymond,  would  never  consent  to  be  made  an  au- 
thority of  as  he  is  by  Herr  Dove.  The  true  thinker 
is  always  pleased  when  others  too  tlihik  over  his'*^ 
words.  I  would  therefore  say  candidly,  that  as  far 
as  I  can  see,  these  three  questions  are  alike  as  regards 
their  being  solvable  or  insolvable.  If  faith  is  justi- 
fied in  bringing  in  God  and  miracle  in  all  three 
cases,  then  science  has  the  right  to  try  and  make 
this  intervention  unnecessary.  Nor  does  Dubois- 
Reymond  after  all  controvert  this  position :  all  he 
says  is,  that  Science  can  aid  us  in  the  first,  and  in 


XX  Prefatory  Postscript. 

the  third  point,  but  tliat  she  can  give  us  no  assistance 
nor  ever  even  expect  to,  as  regards  the  second.  I 
confess,  I  could  more  readily  understand  what  was 
meant,  were  some  one  to  say ;  A  {i.  e.  life)  is,  and 
must  ever  be  inexplicable ;  but  supposing  A  once 
granted,  B  and  C  (i.  e.,  sensation  and  thought)  follow 
of  course,  that  is  to  say  by  natural  development. 
Or  suppose  it  read  :  A  and  B  are  conceivable,  but 
at  C  (self-consciousness)  our  understanding  fails  us. 
Either  of  these  statements,  as  I  have  said,  appears  to 
me  to  be  more  tenable  at  first  sight  and  in  general, 
than  the  other  which  would  make  the  middle  stadium 
only  impassable. 

The  first  of  the  three  problems  i.  e.  the  origin  of 
Life  is  held  by  the  Katural  Science  of  our  day  to  be 
solvable,  it  being,  in  the  words  of  Dubois-Reymond, 
a  difficult  problem,  yet  simply  a  mechanical  one.  It 
involves  a  mode  of  motion  difi'erent  from  any  we  are 
acquainted  with,  and  far  more  complex,  but  yet  sim- 
ply motion,  and  so  involves  nothing  that  is  absolutely 
new  or  fundamentally  different  from  known  modes 
of  motion.  As  for  the  third  problem — that  of  Eea- 
son  and  freedom  of  the  will — our  author  appears  to 
find  its  solution  in  the  fact  that  it  is  most  inti- 
mately connected  with  the  second,  Eeason  being  only 
the  highest  stage  of  consciousness. 

But  as  regards  the  insolvability  of  that  second 
problem  he  expresses  himself  thus:  The  most 
accurate  knowledge  of  the  essential  soul  organism 
reveals    to    us    only    matter   in    motion :    but  be- 


Prefatory  Postscript.  xxi 

tween  this  material  movement  and  my  feeling  pain 
or  pleasure,  experiencing  a  sweet  taste,  seeing  red, 
etc.,  with  the  conclusion  Hherefore  I  exist, ^^  there  is  a 
profound  gulf ;  and  it  remains  ^'  utterly  and  forever 
inconceivable  why  to  a  number  of  atoms  of  carbon, 
hydrogen,  etc.,  it  should  not  be  a  matter  of  indiffer- 
ence how  they  lie,  or  how  they  move  :  nor  can  we  in 
any  wise  tell  how  consciousness  should  result  from 
their  concurrent  action."  Whether  these  Yerha 
Magistri  are  indeed  the  "  last  word"  on  the  subject, 
time  only  can  tell.  I  can  accept  the  doctrine  provis. 
ionally  without  essential  injury  to  my  position,  for 
what  says  Dubois-Reymond  further? 

The  question,  says  he,  whether  mental  operations 
will  ever  be  for  us  intelligible  by  means  of  material 
conditions  is  a  very  different  one  from  that  other, 
whether  these  operations  are  not  in  themselves  the  re- 
sults of  material  conditions.  Now  even  if  you  with  our 
author  reply  to  the  first  question  in  the  negative,  still 
the  other  remains  unanswered,  as  it  is  by  no  means 
negatived  with  the  first.  On  the  contrary,  in  accord- 
ance with  the  familiar  principle  of  investigation,  that 
the  simplest  theory  as  to  the  cause  of  a  phenomenon  is 
to  have  the  preference  until  proved  false,  our  thought 
will  ever  incline  to  an  affirmative  answer  to  the  ques- 
tion. For  if  we  had  but  a  conception  of  the  essential 
nature  of  Matterand  Force — which  according  to  Du- 
bois-Reymond  constitutes  the  second,  or  rather  the  first 
limit  of  ]N"atural  Science — then  too  should  we  under- 
stand "how  the  substance  underlying  them  might 


xxii  Prefatory  Postscript. 

sense,  and  desire  and  think."  We  shall  of  course 
never  clear  up  these  matters  ;  but  the  more  absolute- 
ly the  investigator  of  Is"ature  recognizes  this  double 
limitation  of  his  science,  the  freer  will  he  be,  without 
the  illusions  of  dogmas  and  philosophemata,  to  con- 
struct his  notions  of  the  relations  between  mind  and 
matter  inductively.  He  will  clearly  perceive  the 
multifarious  dependences  of  man's  mental  life  on  his 
organic  constitution  :  no  theological  prejudice  will 
hinder  him,  like  Descartes,  from  seeing  in  the  souls 
of  brutes  souls  kindred  to  that  of  man,  members  of 
the  same  evolutionary  series,  though  standing  at  a 
lower  level.  Finally  he  would  be  led  by  the  Theory 
of  Descent,  coupled  with  the  Doctrine  of  Natural  Se- 
lection, to  hold  that  what  is  called  Soul,  came  into 
existence  as  the  gradually  resulting  effect  of  certain 
material  conditions  and  that,  like  other  heritable  gifts 
of  service  in  the  struggle  for  existence,  it  has  gone 
on  advancing  and  perfecting  itself  through  a  long  se- 
ries of  generations. 

Here  the  question  arises,  can  it  be  the  intention 
of  a  scientist  who  uses  this  language,  that  obsolete 
hypotheses  and  defunct  dogmas  should  find  a  new 
resting-place  beyond  the  limits  of  exact  Natural 
Science,  as  placed  by  him  ?  Why  he  fires  a  regular 
bomb-shell  into  these  regions  out  beyond  the  signal- 
liglits !  Even  in  his  famous  Leipsic  discourse,  he  says 
that  no  man  must  reproach  the  investigator  of  J^ature 
with  recognizing  in  plants  no  soul-life,  on  the  ground 
that  they  possess  no  nervous  system.  ^'  But  what," 


Prefatory  Postscript.  xxili 

continues  the  orator,  "  if  before  assenting  to  the  notion 
of  a  World-Soul,  he  were  to  demand  that  you  point 
out  to  him  some\yhere  in  the  Universe  a  system  of 
ganglia  and  nerves,  imbedded  in  neurilemma,  and 
nourished  with  arterial  blood  under  due  pressure, 
and  corresponding  in  its  comprehensiveness  to  the 
mental  power  of  such  a  soul  ? "  I  am  very  careful 
not  to  attribute  to  any  one,  least  of  all  to  so  distin- 
guished a  man  as  Dubois-Reymond,  a  thought  which 
he  does  not  distinctly  avow ;  but  he  can  make  no 
objection  if  I  on  my  own  account  make  an  applica- 
tion of  his  sentence  to  the  question  of  a  Personal 
God. 

The  remaining  objections  brought  on  scientific 
grounds  against  my  w^ork,  are  of  minor  importance. 
As  for  tlie  scientific  specialists,  none  of  them  have 
as  yet  expressed  an  opinion,  and  I  confidently  await 
their  judgment.  But  whatever  further  objections 
have  been  urged,  have  chiefly  to  do  with  certain 
breaks  in  the  demonstration  of  IN'ature's  gradual 
evolution — a  circumstance  which  is  to  be  accounted 
for,  partly  by  the  unavoidable  brevity  of  my  exposi- 
tion, partly  by  the  insufiiciency  of  the  observations 
hitherto  made,  and  partly  too,  by  the  imperfection 
of  all  human  knowledge.  Sometimes  also,  instances 
have  been  cited  as  disregarded  by  me,  though  in 
fact  I  had  not  overlooked  them  at  all,  but  simply 
regarded  them  as  of  no  special  importance.  Thus 
Olbers's  assertion  that  supposing  the  number  of 
"worlds,  of  fixed  stars,  to  be  infinite,  then   the  whole 


xxiv  Prefatory  Postscript. 

firmament  would  radiate  as  mucli  light  and  lieat  as 
tlie  sun.  Here,  however,  even  tlie  man  who  is  no 
astronomer.  Prof.  Huber,  for  instance,  can  see  quite  as 
well  as  I,  that  though  the  number  be  infinite,  the  in- 
finite distance  of  the  stars  diminishes  their  light.  As 
for  Clausius's  calculation,  that  eventually  all  the 
motion  in  the  Universe  will  suflfer  impairment,  I 
am  not  in  "  direct  contradiction"  with  it,  as  this  critic 
aflfirms;  I  contradict  it  only  indirectly,  for  in  my 
view  cessation  of  movement  is  on  the  one  hand  an 
incident  of  the  individual  worlds,  and  on  the  other,  is 
but  a  transition  state  like  everythiiig  else  in 
the  Universe  that  is  conditioned.  Certain  more  or 
less  gross  misconceptions  entertained  by  my  critics, 
particularly  with  regard  to  the  Darwinian  Theory,  I 
leave  to  the  special  expounders  of  that  theory  for 
correction.  For  the  rest,  it  was  not  without  a  pur- 
pose that  in  the  title  of  my  work,  I  opposed  to  the 
old  Faith  not  a  new  knowledge,  but  a  new  Faith. 
In  constructing  a  comprehensive  view  of  the  Uni- 
verse, which  shall  take  the  place  of  the  cl lurch's 
equally  comprehensive  Faith,  we  not  only  may  take 
what  is  inductively  demonstrable,  but  to  this  we 
must  append  whatever  postulates  or  consequences 
the  mind  requires  to  complete  the  system.  With 
the  like  intent  I  called  my  book  a  Confession,  and 
this  affords  me  opportunity  for  bestowing  some 
attention  on  the  theological  objections  that  have 
been  urged  against  the  work. 

First  then  it  is  charged — particularly  by  Herr 


Prefatory  Postscript.  xxv 

liuber  in  tlie  Allgemeine  Zeitung — that  in  this  later 
work  I  have  "  apostatized "  from  my  earlier  and 
higher  estimate  of  the  person  of  Jesus  and  of  Chris- 
tianity. Now  apostasy,  as  this  lively  champion  of 
Old  Catholicism  must  kuow  from  home  experience, 
usually  is  the  result  of  very  definite  motives.  It 
commonly  takes  a  direction  the  reverse  of  that  taken 
by  me,  retreating  from  some  extreme  and  exposed 
ground  to  one  that  is  moi'e  defensible  and  less  dan- 
gerous. My  apostasy,  therefore,  which  took  the  con- 
trary direction,  could  find  its  extrinsic  motive  only  in 
the  fact  that,  at  most,  certain  considerations  which 
once  restrained  me  had  now  lost  their  force.  Bat  in 
fact  the  case  was  otherwise  ;  in  the  composition  of 
those  earlier  writings  I  enjoyed  the  same  complete 
independence  as  I  do  to-day.  The  supposed  apostasy 
must  therefore  proceed  from  purely  intrinsic  grounds, 
in  consequence  of  a  change  in  my  convictions ;  and 
here  was  no  occasion  for  self-reproach.  But  the 
simple  fact  is  that  there  is  no  apostasy  in  the  case  at 
all. 

True,  in  my  earlier  writings  and  also  particularly 
in  the  new  revision  of  the  Life  of  Jesus,  I  was  at 
great  pains  to  collect  into  one  image  the  scattered 
touches  found  in  the  gospels,  so  as  to  present  a  picture 
of  Jesus  possessiug  a  human  interest.  My  adversa- 
ries found  the  likeness  I  drew  faint  and  shadowy,  and 
demanded  more  life-like  and  definite  lineaments, 
while  I  on  the  other  hand  was  fain  to  confess  to  my- 
self that,  considering  how  little  we  really  know  of 


xxvi  Prefatory  Postscript. 

Jesus,  the  lines  were  far  too  bold  and  distinct.  There- 
fore was  it  that  in  the  last  part  of  my  book  I  com- 
plained of  the  meagreness  and  uncertainty  of  our  his- 
torical information  about  Jesus,  and  said  that  no  well 
instructed  and  candid  person  would  say  me  nay  when 
I  affirmed  that  "  there  are  but  few  great  historical 
personages  of  whom  we  have  such  unsatisfactory  in- 
formation as  of  him."  Even  at  that  period  Jesus' 
discourses  about  his  return  in  the  clouds  annoyed  me, 
nor  could  I  but  with  labored  and  specious  argument 
defend  him  against  the  reproach  of  fanaticism  and 
self-glorification.  Finally,  when  in  my  latest  work  I 
consider  Jesus  in  the  light  of  the  Centre  and  Stay  of 
our  rehgions  life,  I  find  there  are  chiefly  two  reasons 
why  he  cannot  be  so  regarded  :  first,  he  cannot  be 
the  centre,  for  our  knowledge  of  him  is  too  fragment- 
ary ;  then  he  cannot  be  the  stay,  for  what  we  do 
know  about  him  indicates  a  person  of  fantastic  fanati- 
cism. In  all  this  there  is  clearly  no  apostasy  but  only 
the  normal  result  attending  the  development  of  scien- 
tific convictions,  viz.  that  now  I  gave  full  swing  to 
certain  reflections  which  previously  I  thought  I 
could  push  aside. 

For  some  people  you  cannot  repeat  a  thing  too 
often,  and  so  I  recur  again  to  a  point  already  referred 
to.  I  have  no  intention  of  disputing  that  Jesus  was 
an  extraordinary  man.  What  I  hold  is  only  this  :  It 
is  not  because  oi  what  he  w^as,  but  because  of  what 
lie  was  not ;  not  because  of  the  truth  he  tauglit,  but 
on  the  strength  of  a  prediction  which  was  not  fulfilled, 


Prefatory  Postscript.  xxvii 

and  wliicli  therefore  was  not  true,  that  he  has  been 
made  the  central  point  of  a  church,  of  a  cult.  So 
soon  as  we  see  that  he  was  not  that, because  of  w^hich 
he  was  raised  to  such  a  position,  then  we  have 
no  further  ground,  nor  even,  if  we  would  be 
truthful,  anj  right  to  belong  to  such  a  church. 
Mere  human  excellence  even  at  its  highest  perfec- 
tion— sinlessness  disappeared  simultaneously  with 
supernaturalism  and  is  henceforth  to  be  classed  as 
fraud — gives  no  title  to  ecclesiastical  veneration ;  least 
of  all  can  it  give  such  title  when,  having  its  root  in 
conditions  and  in  spheres  of  thought  which  are  re- 
mote from  ours,  and  to  some  extent  the  reverse  of 
ours,  it  grows  daily  less  fitted  to  be  the  pattern  for 
our  lives  and  our  thoughts. 

That  with  such  views  in  regard  to  the  person  of 
Jesus  that  person  can  no  longer  be  the  object  of  re- 
Mgious  faith,  Avas  my  conviction  full  thirty  years  ago, 
as  expressed  in  my  "  Dogmatik."  Even  so  early  as 
then  I  held  it  to  be  an  error  to  *'  suppose  that  the  mere 
moral  teaching  of  Jesus,  including  his  doctrine  con- 
cerning God  and  retribution,  constitutes  Christiani- 
ty ;  for  it  is  an  essential  character  of  that  system  to 
regard  us  as  in  relation  with  these  ideas  only  through 
the  mediation  of  Christ,  and  to  resign  into  liis  hands 
every  thing  noble  that  adds  dignity  to  man,  and 
every  suffering  that  afflicts  him,  in  order  to  get  them 
back  again  in  the  sliape  of  grace  and  mercy.  He 
who  has  outgrown  this  idea  of  self-abnegation,  which 
is  the  essence  of  Christianity,  may  have  his  reasons 


xxvlii  Prefatory  Postscript, 

indeed  for  calling  himself  a  Christian,  but  reason  for 
the  name  he  has  none."  The  question  as  to  onr  rela- 
tion to  Christianity,  Herr  Dove  puts  in  this  form, 
whether  the  religions  movement  which  began  with 
Jesus  still  extends  so  unmistakably  to  our  views  of 
the  world  and  of  life  as  to  justify  us  in  coupling  with 
his  name  our  religious  principles.  But  this  is  not 
one  but  two  questions,  one  of  which  may  be  answer- 
ed affirmatively,  the  other  negatively.  That  the  re- 
ligious movement  which  began  with  Jesus  goes  on  in 
our  own  time,  no  one  will  deny — though  with  every 
decade  of  years  it  comes  in  conflict  more  and  more 
plainly  with  the  truths  of  Science  and  with  the  prac- 
tical maxims  of  modern  times.  The  phrase  '^  coup- 
ling with  his  name  our  religious  principles,"  is  far 
from  saying  all  that  is  required  in  this  case.  The 
question  is  whether  we  can  still  honor  him  with  a 
cultuB^  or  consider  him  as  the  head  of  a  special  ar- 
rangement for  procuring  salvation  :  and  I  hold  that, 
from  our  standpoint,  such  views  are  no  longer  justi- 
fiable. 

When  the  author  of  the  notice  in  the  Allgemeine 
Zeitung  perceives  that  I  do  not  bestow  praise  on 
some  special  good  quality  of  the  Christian  system, 
he  is  ready  with  the  explanation  that  I  have  no 
capacity  for  appreciating  it.  For  example,  the  ser- 
vices rendered  by  Christianitj^  in  the  moral  culture 
of  the  race.  But  I  have  not  tailed  to  speak  of  these 
services ;  and  if  I  did  not  treat  of  them  at  greater 
length,  it  was  because  the  object  of  my  work  did  not 


Prefatory  Postscript.  xxix 

require  it.  The  book  is,  as  I  have  said,  a  Confession, 
not  a  liistorical  essay.  The  question  I  liad  to  do 
with  was  not,  What  has  Christianity  done  for  the 
race  ?  but.  Be  its  past  action  what  it  will — and  it  will 
act  on  in  any  case — can  one  who  is  possessed  of 
certain  convictions  continue  to  adhere  to  it  as  to  a 
church  ?  I  might  make  a  similar  reply  to  the  charge 
brought  against  me  by  the  critic  of  the  Cologne 
Zeitung,  viz.  that  I  make  no  account  of  the  impor- 
tance of  the  imao^ination  in  relii^ion.  As  to  whether 
I  am  capable  of  appreciating  this  importance,  I 
would  refer  Herr  Bacmeister  to  one  work  of  mine 
among  otliers,  that  on  Reimarus.  But  he  who  has 
seen  what  an  important  role  the  imagination  plays 
in  religion,  has  left  religious  illusion  far  behind  ;  and 
whether  now  those  w^ho  are  freed  from  such  illusions, 
are  forever  to  go  on  acting  as  though  they  were 
under  their  influence,  is  the  question  raised  in  my 
book. 

As  has  been  already  observed,  the  reviewer  in 
the  Weser  Zeitung  looks  on  my  book  as  a  declaration 
of  war  against  the  Protestant  League  and  Old-Cath- 
olicism. He  even  adds  that  I  "  very  categorically 
deny  the  right  of  either  to  exist."  And  yet  I  had 
to  do  with  either  the  League  or  with  Old  Catholicism 
only  incidentally ;  and  when  in  the  Introduction  I 
admitted  that  the  vast  majority  of  the  malcontents, 
and  of  those  who  are  striving  to  advance,  belong  to 
these  two  parties,  I  think  that  by  that  very  admis- 
sion, I  conceded  their  historic  right  to  exist.     This 


XXX  Prefatory  Postscript. 

right  can  only  rest  on  tlie  fact  that,  for  a  large  num- 
ber of  people  in  these  days,  the  force  of  advancing 
knowledo-e  on  the  one  hand,  and  on  the  other  the 
weii>'ht  of  old  convictions  and  habits,  find  their 
equilibrium  just  at  the  point  which  ansv^'ers  to  Old- 
Catholicism  and  the  Protestant  League.  But  if  I 
do  not  place  myself  and  those  of  one  mind  with  me 
at  either  of  these  stand-points,  the  reason  simply  is 
that  I  deny  to  both  the  logical  right  to  exist,  i.  6.,  I 
hold  them  to  be  only  transition  stages  beyond  which 
we  have  passed  as  our  views  developed. 

The  objection  is  urged  that  while  all  this  may  be 
true  enough  of  individuals,  it  does  uot  hold  for  the 
majority  ;  that  we  must  not  break  with  this  majority 
of  our  fellow-men,  must  not  sever  the  sacred  tie  of 
relio^ious  association  which  binds  us  to  them.  "  Why" 
asks  Herr  Dove,  "  Why  do  we,  w^ho  have  banished 
far  away  from  us  every  phantom  of  Kevelation  and 
Miracle,  attach  so  much  importance  to  the  name  of 
Christian  %  The  reason  is,  says  he,  "  because  wo 
would  not  break  away  from  those  of  our  brethren 
who  still  anxiously  cling  to  all  these  phantoms  as 
though  they  were  something  real ;  and  because  Wv3 
see  in  them  Christians  still,  not  in  that  they  believe 
in  these  phantoms,  but  in  spite  of  such  belief."  But 
once  make  the  experiment  of  addressing  those 
Christian  brethren  in  that  strain  ;  tell  them  candidly 
and  plainly  that  you  regard  Revelation  and  Mirac'e 
to  be  phantoms  ;  that  you  hold  themselves  however 
tobe  Christians  "notwithstanding''   their  beliefs-- 


Prefatory  Postscript.  xxxi 

and  see  if  tliey  will  thencefortli  reckon  yon  as  of 
their  Chnrcli.  In  short,  unless  backed  by  accomo- 
dation by  disguise  and  secrecy,  by  manifold  deception, 
in  a  word  by  falseliood,  such  compromises  are  bonnd 
to  fail ;  but  if  honesty  and  truthfulness  must  rule 
any  wliere,  surely  it  must  be  in  the  domain  of  relig- 
ion. In  politics  compromise  is  indispensable ;  but 
there  it  does  not  of  necessity  imply  deceit  or  false- 
hood, because  in  political  aifairs  we  are  not  concerned 
about  convictions  but  about  measures,  not  about  the 
true  but  about  the  useful. 

"  I  can  understand,"  wrote  Dahlmann  to  Gervin- 
us,  on  occasion  of  the  latter's  work  on  the  Mission  of 
the  German  Catholics.*  "  I  can  understand  how 
one  mio^ht  live  without  a  church  :  I  so  live  ravself, 
although  I  would  it  were  otherwise.  But  how  one 
can  build  up  a  church  simply  on  Christian  morals,  I 
cannot  so  readily  understand.  It  appears  to  me  that 
those  (clergymen)  who  themselves  cleave  to  Christ ; 
who  preach  about  the  mysteries  of  his  birth  and  res- 
urrection and  about  his  promises ;  and  the  believ- 
ing multitude  who  listen,  constitute  the  church  ;  and 
when  we  others  go  in  and  out  we  cause  a  draught, 
but  bring  no  warmth.-'  This  is  precisely  what  I 
myself  think,  all  but  the  wish  it  were  otherwise. 
We  have  quit  the  church  in  a  perfectly  honorable  way, 
and  here  outside  of  it  we  lack  nothing :  why  then 
should  we  complain  that  we  are  not  within?  This 
very  thing,  viz.,  the  desire  of  firmly  impressing  on 
*  Seceders  from  Roman  Catliolic  Church  (1845). 


xxxü  Prefatory  Postscript. 

our  minds  what  we  possess  even  without  a  Church, 
and  so  counteracting  that  "  wish  it  were  otherwise/' 
was  my  chief  motive  in  the  composition  and  publica- 
tion of  my  Confession.  To  the  same  end  I  recount- 
ed the  incredible  and  contradictory  dogmas  we  left 
behind  when  we  quit  the  church,  and  the  cruciiixion 
of  reason  and  truthfulness  which  we  escaped  when  we 
took  that  step.  But  still  these  arguments  were,  as  I 
have  declared  over  and  over  again,  never  intended  to 
make  living  in  the  church  unpleasant  to  any  man 
;  who  chooses  to  remain  there.  We  only  desired  to 
jform  a  definite  and  coherent  idea  for  ourselves  as  to 
tlie  grounds  of  our  separation  from  her.  The  pur- 
pose was,  not  controversy  with  those  who  differ, 
but  an  understanding  with  tliose  who  agree  with 
us. 

I  wanted  however,  to  make  those  who  agree 
with  me  recognize  not  alone  what  we  have,  but 
also  what  we  still  lack.  In  laying  before  them  a 
statement  of  our  then  possessions  in  the  way  of 
knowledge  and  opinions,  of  excitements  and  appease- 
ments, I  wished  to  call  their  attention  to  points 
where  there  is  need  of  further  light,  and  to  induce 
them,  on  their  part,  to  contribute  to  the  common 
stock  of  knowledge.  Kot  only  are  there  still  great 
gaps  in  our  theory  of  the  universe,  we  are  still  more 
backward  in  our  doctrine  of  duty  and  virtue.  Here 
I  could  only  indicate  the  places  where  the  foundation 
stones  are  to  be  laid,  rather  than  point  to  a  completed 
structure.     The  reason  of  this   is  that   we   are  in 


Prefatory  Postscript.  xxxili 

practice  accustomed  to  fall  back  upon  our  old  notions, 
and  half  unconsciously  to  derive  from  them  the  mo- 
tives of  our  conduct.  But  we  must  become  and 
remain  clearly  conscious  of  the  untenable  character 
of  these  notions,  so  that  we  shall  be  compelled  to 
look  for  and  find  the  firm  grounds  of  our  moral  conduct 
in  man's  nature  as  known  to  us,  and  not  in  any  pre- 
tended superhuman  revelation. 

The  natural  effort  of  our  times  to  sever  the  tie 
between  church  and  state ;  the  inevitable  breaking 
lip  of  state  churches  into  sects  and  free  societies, 
must  at  no  distant  period  make  it  possible  for  num- 
bers of  citizens  to  belong  to  no  church  at  all,  even 
externally.  The  course  of  mental  development 
especially  for  the  past  ten  years  has  favored  the 
formation  of  such  groups ;  and  the  more  purely  they 
act  out  themselves,  and  the  less  they  stultify  them- 
selves by  concessions  to  others'  views,  the  more  bene- 
ficial will  be  their  influence  on  mental  and  moral 
culture  in  general.  There  is  no  necessity  in  the 
world  for  our  interfering  with  one  another:  there  is] 
nothing  to  hinder  our  standing  up  like  men  and, 
getting  our  rights.  The  right  to  do  just  this  was  all; 
I  demanded  in  my  Confession,  with  regard  to  which 
I  still  hold  that  in  it  I  did  a  good  work  and  earned 
the  thanks  of  a  less  biased  future.  The  day  will 
come,  as  it  came  for  the  Life  of  Jesus,  when  my 
book  shall  be  understood, — only  this  time  I  shall  not 
live  to  see  it. 


THE  OLD  FAITH  AND  THE  NEW. 


rpHE  great  politico-military  movement  wliicli,  in 
the  course  of  the  last  six  years,  has  transformed 
the  internal  and  external  relations  of  German}^,  has 
been  promptly  followed  by  one  of  an  ecclesiastical 
character,  which  evinces  tendencies  scarcely  less  mili- 
tant. 

In  the  accession  of  power  which  seemed  to  accrue 
to  Protestantism  in  consequence  of  Austria's  exclusion 
by  Prussia  and  the  formation  of  the  l^orth  German 
Confederation,  Poman  Catholicism  recognized  a  sum- 
mons to  declare  the  Pope  infallible  and  to  concentrate 
in  his  hands  its  entire  ecclesiastico-secular  authority. 
Within  the  pale  of  the  Catholic  Church  itself,  how- 
ever, the  new  dogma  encountered  resistance,  which 
has  since  assumed  distinct  shape  in  the  pai'ty  of  the 
so-called  Old  Catholics ;  while  the  recently  founded 


2  The  Old  Faith  and  the  Ä^eit\ 

German  Executive  seems  determined  at  last,  after 
a  too  protracted  laissez  faire,  inherited  from  the 
Prussian  policy  of  the  last  thirty  years,  vigorously 
to  repel  these  menacing  ecclesiastical  encroachments. 
In  view  of  this  perturbation  in  the  Catholic 
Church,  the  Protestant  may  for  the  moment  appear 
the  more  stable  of  the  two.  Nevertheless,  it  is  not 
without  an  internal  fermentation  of  its  own;  the 
difference  consisting  in  the  fact  that,  from  the 
nature  of  its  creed,  this  partakes  more  of  the 
character  of  a  religious  than  of  a  politico-ecclesi- 
astical movement.  .  At  bottom,  nevertheless,  a  dog- 
matic and  religious  difference  of  opinions  underlies 
the  antagonism  between  the  hierarchical  tendency 
of  the  old  consistorial  government  on  the  one 
hand,  and  the  democratic  character  of  those  efforts 
which  aim  at  establishing  a  synodical  constitution 
on  the  other.  The  contest  between  Lutheran  ortho- 
doxy and  the  Unionists,  and  still  more,  the  men 
of  the  Protestant  League,  is,  in  fact,  one  concerning 
religious  questions,  concerning  irreconcilable  con- 
ceptions of  Christianity  and  of  Protestantism  itself. 
If  this  Protestant  agitation  does  not  attract  as 
much  notice  as  the  Catholic,  it  is  solely  due  to  the 
fact  tliat  questions  directly  bearing  on  political  power 
naturally  make  more  ado  than  those  which  concern 


Introduction.  3 

faith,  so  long  as  tlie  latter  continue  merely  subjects 
of  theological  dispute. 

Be  this  as  it  may :  on  every  side  people  are  at 
least  stirring,  speaking  out,  preparing  for  conflict; 
only  we,  it  seems,  remain  silent  and  look  on  with 
folded  arms. 

What  means  this  We  ?  For  at  present  surely  it 
is  but  a  simple  I  which  speaks,  and  one  which, 
moreover,  so  far  as  yet  appears,  without  allies, 
without  adherents,  occupies  a  singularly  isolated 
position. 

Oh,  much  less  than  that ;  this  /  has  not  even  a 
position,  and  exercises  only  the  degree  of  influence 
which  the  world  may  be  willing  to  concede  to  its  mere 
word.  And  this  again  applies  only  to  the  written 
and  printed  word ;  for  it  has  neither  the  ability  nor 
the  inclination  to  address  meetings,  or  become  the 
itinerant  missionary  of  its  convictions.  But  it  is 
possible  to  be  without  position  and  yet  not  prostrate; 
to  belong  to  no  society  and  yet  not  to  stand  alone. 
If  I  say  We,  I  know  that  I  am  entitled  to  do  so. 
The  We  I  mean  no  longer  counts  only  by  thou- 
sands. True,  we  do  not  constitute  a  church,  a 
congregation,  or  even  a  society ;  but  we  know  the 
reason  why.    u,\  .    ^U^  ^^  J-4  ^  c^c^^l , 

Innumerable  assuredly  is  the  multitude  of  those 


4  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New, 

who  are  no  lonixer  satisfied  with  the  old  faith,  the 
old  church,  be  it  Protestant  or  Catholic;  of  those 
who  either  dimly  apprehend,  or  distinctly  perceive, 
the  contradiction  into  which  both  are  forced  more 
and  more  with  the  knowledge,  the  view  of  life  and 
the  world,  the  social  and  political  growths  of  the 
present  age,  and  who  in  consequence  regard  a  change, 
a  modification,  as  an  urgent  necessity. 

At  this  point,  however,  the  mass  of  the  dissatis- 
fied and  the  progressive  divide.  One  party — and 
undeniably  it  forms  the  great  majority  in  both 
confessions — considers  it  sufficient  to  lop  ofi*  the 
notoriously  decayed  branches  of  the  ancient  tree  in 
hopes  of  thereby  imparting  to  it  fresh  vitality  and 
fruitfulness.  Here  people  will  let  the  Pope  pass, 
only  he  must  not  be  infallible ;  there  they  are  quite 
ready  to  keep  fast  hold  of  Christ,  but  let  him  no 
longer  be  proclaimed  the  Son  of  God.  In  the 
main,  however,  both  churches  are  to  continue  as 
they  were :  the  one  shall  retain  its  priests  and 
bishops  set  apart  from  the  laity  as  consecrated  dis- 
pensers of  the  ecclesiastical  means  of  grace;  the 
other,  although  with  an  elective  clergy  and  a  consti- 
tution prescribed  by  itself,  must  continue  preaching 
Christ,  the  distribution  of  the  sacraments  as  by 
him  ordained,  the  celebration  of  the  fe.^tivab,  which 


Introduction,  5 

serve  to  retain  the  chief  events  of   his  life  in  our 

memory. 

Side  by  side  with  this  majority  there  exists, 
however,  a  minority  not  to  be  overlooked.  Tliese  lay 
great  stress  upon  the  mutual  dependence  of  parts  in 
the  ecclesiastical  system,  in  short,  on  logical  sequence. 
They  consider  that  if  you  once  admit  a  distinctive  dif- 
ference between  clergy  and  laity,  if  you  admit  a  need 
inherent  in  mankind  of  always  obtaining  infallible 
teaching  in  religion  and  morals,  from  an  authority  in- 
stituted by  God  himself  through  Christ,  you  must  like- 
wise be  prepared  to  give  your  adherence  to  the  dogma 
of  an  infallible  pope,  as  one  equally  required  by  this 
need.  And  in  like  manner,  if  you  no  longer  consideFl 
Jesus  as  the  Son  of  God,  but  as  a  man,  however  excel- 
lent, they  think  that  you  are  no  longer  justified  in  pray- 
ing to  him,  in  cleaving  to  him  as  the  centre  of  a  cultus, 
in  year  after  year  preaching  about  his  actions,  his  for- 
tunes, and  his  utterances ;  more  especially  when  you 
discern  the  most  important  of  these  actions  and  inci- 
dents to  be  fabulous,  while  those  utterances  and  teach- 
ings are  recognized  by  you  as  for  the  most  part  irre- 
concilable with  our  actual  views  of  life  and  the  uni- 
verse. And  if  this  minority  thus  notes  the  giving 
v/ay  of  the  close  circle   of  ecclesiastical   dogma,  it 


6  TJie  Old  Faith  and  the  N'ew, 

confesses  to  not  seeing  what  further  needs  a  cultiL8 
still  subserves,  and  proceeds  to  call  in  question 
the  use  of  a  distinct  society  like  the  church  existing 
by  the  side  of  the  state  and  the  school,  of  science 
/and  art,  the  common  property  of  all. 

The  minority  which  holds  these  opinions  consti- 
tutes the  We  in  whose  name  I  undertake  to  speak. 

2. 

But  it  is  a  fact  that  no  influence  can  be  exercised 
on  the  world  if  we  do  not  hold  together,  arrive  at 
the  knowledge  of  each  other's  convictions,  and  act 
accordinor  to  these  convictions  with  united  strenq;th. 
We  ought  thus,  it  would  seem,  in  opposition  to  the 
old  and  new  ecclesiastical  societies,  to  found  a  non- 
ecclesiastical,  a  purely  humanitarian  or  rationalistic 
one.  This,  however,  we  have  not  done,  and  where  a 
few  ivj  to  effect  something  of  the  kind  they  make 
themselves  ridiculous.  TF^need  not  be  scared  at  this, 
as  we  have  but  to  do  better.  Such  is  tlie  opinion  of 
many,  but  it  is  not  ours.  We  rather  recognize  a  con- 
tradiction in  the  idea  of  abolishing  one  society  by  in- 
stituting another.  If  we  would  demonstrate  the  in- 
utility of  a  church,  we  must  not  establish  a  something 
which  would  itself  be  a  sort  of  church. 


Introduction,  7 

l^evertlieless,  we  would  and  should  come  to  a 
mutual  understanding.  Tiiis,  liowev'^r,  we  can  effect 
in  our  time  without  a  distinct  organization. 

We  have  public  speaking,  and  above  all,  we  have 
the  press.  It  is  through  this  latter  medi um  that  I  now 
tiy  to  come  to  an  understanding  with  the  rest  of  those 
I  call  We.  And  this  medium  is  quite  sufficient  for  all 
those  purposes  which  we  at  present  can  have  in  view. 
Tor  the  present  we  wish  no  change  whatever  in  the 
world  at  large.  It  does  not  occur  to  us  to  wish  to 
destroy  any  church,  as  we  know  that  a  church  is  still 
a  necessity  for  a  large  majority.  For  a  new  con- 
structive organization  (not  of  a  church,  but  after  the 
latter  s  ultimate  decay,  a  fresh  co-ordination  of  the 
ideal  elements  in  the  life  of  nations),  the  times  seem  to 
us  not  yet  ripe.  But  neither  do  we  wish  to  repair  or 
prop  up  the  old  structures,  for  we  discern  in  these  a 
hindrance  to  the  process  of  transformation.  "We  would 
only  exert  our  influence  so  that  a  new  growth  should 
in  the  future  develop  of  itself  from  the  inevitable 
dissolution  of  the  old.  For  this  end  —  mutual 
understauflino^  without  formal  oro-anization  —  the 
inspiriting  power  of  free  speech  will  be  found  to 
suffice. 

I  am  well  aware  thai  what  I  purpose  delineating 


8  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New, 

in  the  following  pages  is  known  to  multitudes  as 
well  as  to  myself,  to  some  even  much  better.  A 
few  have  already  spoken  out  on  the  subject.  Am  I 
therefore  to  keep  silence  ?  I  think  not.  For  do 
we  not  all  supply  each  other's  deficiencies  ?  If 
another  is  better  informed  a.s  regards  many  things, 
I  may  perhaps  be  as  to  some ;  while  others  again 
are  known  and  viewed  by  me  in  a  different  light. 
Out  with  it,  then  I  let  my  colours  be  displayed,  that 
it  may  be  seen  whether  they  are  genuine  or  not. 

To  this  I   may  add  something  more  as  regards 
myself  personally.    It  is  now  close  upon  forty  years 
that  as  a  man  of  letters  I  have  laboured  in  the 
same  direction,  that  I  have  fought  on  and  on  for 
that  which  has  appeared  to  me  as  truth,  and  still 
more    perhaps    against  that  which   has    appeared 
to  me  as  error ;  and  in  the  pursuit  of  this  object  I 
have  attained,  nay,  overstepped  the  threshold  of  old 
age.     I  have  reached  the  time  when  every  earnest- 
minded  man  hears  the  whisper  of  an  inner  voice- 
"  Give  an  account  of  thy  stewardship,  for  thou  niay- 
est  be  no  longer  steward." 

]^ow  I  am  not  conscious  of  having  been  an  unjust 
steward.  x\n  unskilful  one  at  times,  too  probaljy  also 
a  negligent  one,  I  may,  heaven  knows,  have  been  ; 
but  on  the  whole  I  have  done  what  the  strength  and 


Introduction, 


9 


impulse  within  prompted  me  to  do,  and  have  done 
it  without  looking  to  the  right  or  left,  without 
currying  the  favour  or  shunning  the  displeasure  of 
any.  But  what  is  it  that  I  have  done  ?  No  doubt 
one  has  in  one's  own  mind  a  certain  unity  of  con- 
ception, but  usually  this  finds  only  a  fragmentary 
kind  of  expression :  now  do  these  fragments  also  ne- 
cessarily cohere  from  some  inherent  connection  ?  In 
the  ardour  of  the  moment  we  shatter  much  that  is 
old,  but  have  we  something  new  in  readiness  which 
we  can  substitute  in  place  of  it  ? 

This   accusation    of  merely    destroying   without 
reconstructing  is  perpetually  cast   in  the  teeth  of 
those  who  labour  in  this  direction.     In  a  certain 
sense  I  care  not  to  defend  myself  against  this  ac- 
cusation;   only  that   I  do  not  acknowledge   it  as 
such.     For  I  have  already  pointed  out  that  it  never 
lay  in  my  intention  to  immediately  construct  any-- 
thing  external,  simply  because  I  do  not  judge  the  time' 
for  such  action  to  have  arrived.     Our  concern  for 
the  moment  is  with  an  inward  preparation,  a  prepara- 
tion moreover  of  those  who  feel  themselves  no  lons^er 
satisfied  with  the  old,  no  longer  to  be  appeased  by 
half  measures. 

I   have   never   desired,  nor   do  I   now   desire    to 
disturb   the  contentment   or    the  faith   of  any  one. 


lO  The  Old  Faith  and  the  Nezv. 

But  wliere  these  are  already  sliaken,  I  desire  to  point 
out  the  direction  in  which  I  beheve  a  firmer  soil  is 
to  be  found. 

This,  as  I  take  it,  can    be    no   other    than  that 
which  we  call  the  modern  Cosmic  conception,  the 
result    painfully  educed   from   continued    scientific 
and  historical  research,  as  contrasted  with  that  from 
Christian  theology.     But  it  is  precisely  this  modern 
Cosmic  conce])tion,  as  it  commends  itself  to  me,  to 
which  I  have  hitherto  given  fragmentary  and  allusive 
expression,  but  never  as  yet  an  ample  and  explicit  one. 
I  have  not  yet  adequately  endeavoured  to  prove 
whether    this    conception   is   possessed    :f  a   firm 
basis,    of    the    capacity    of    self-support,  of  unity 
and  consistency  with  itself.     The  effort  :o  do  this 
I  acknowledge  to  be  a  debt  which  I  owe,  not  only 
to  others,  but  to  myself.     We  are  apt  to  combine 
many  things  half-dreamily  in  our  own  minds  which, 
when  called  upon  to  give  them  distinct  c  j.tlines  in 
the  form  of  words  and  sentences,  we  disci^er  to  be 
wholly  incoherent.     Neither  do  T,  by  ary  means, 
pledge  myself  that  this  attempt  will  pro\o  success- 
ful throughout,  that  some  gaps,  some  contradictions 
w^ill  not  remain.     But  from  the  fact  that  J  shall  not 
try  to  hide  these  latter,  the  inquirer  may  recognise 
the  honesty  of  my  purpose,  and  by  refiGcting  on 


Introduction,  1 1 

these  matters  himself  he  will  be  in  a  position  to 
judge  on  which  side  exist  more  of  the  obscuri- 
ties and  insufficiencies  unavoidable  in  human 
speculation,  whether  on  the  side  of  the  ancient 
orthodoxy  or  on  that  of  modern  science. 


I  shall,  therefore,  have  a  double  task  to  ])erform ; 
first,  to  expound  our  position  towards  the  old 
creed,  and  then  the  fundamental  principles  of  that 
new  Cosmic  conception  which  we  acknowledge  as 
ours. 

The    creed    is   Christianity.      Our  first   question 
therefore     resolves  itself    into   how    and    in    what 
sense    we    still   are    Christians.     Christianity    is   a 
definite  form   of   religion,  the  generic    essence   of 
which  is  distinct  from  any  form ;  it  is  possible  to 
have  severed  oneself  from  Christianity  and  still  to  be 
religious.     Out  of  this  first  question  therefore  arises  ^ 
the  next,  whether  we  still  possess  religion.     Our-' 
second  leading  question  concerning  the  new  Cos- 
mic  conception    also,    upon   examination,   resolves 
itself  into  two.     In  the  first  place,  we  would  know 
in  Avhat  this  Cosmic  conception  consists,  on  what 
evidence   it   rests,  and   what    especially,   as   com- 
pared  with   the    old    ecclesiastical   view,    are    its 


12  TJlc  Old  Faith  and  the  New. 

characteristic  principles.  And  in  the  second  place 
we  would  learn  whether  this  modern  Cosmic  concep- 
tion performs  the  same  services  as  did  the  Christian 
dogma  for  its  votaries,  whether  it  performs  them 
better  or  worse,  whether  it  is  more  or  less  adapted  to 
serve  as  a  basis  on  which  to  erect  the  structure  of  a 
life  truly  human,  that  is  to  say  truly  moral,  and  be- 
cause moral,  happy. 

IVe  ask,  therefore,  in  the  first  place  : 


13 


ARE  WE  STILL   CHRISTIANS  ? 


CHRISTIANS  in  what  sense  ?  For  the  word  at 
present  has  a  diverse  meaning,  not  only  in  regard 
to  the  confessions  themselves,  but  still  more  in  view 
of  the  various  gradations  now  extant  between  faith 
and  rationalism.  It  will  be  taken  for  granted,  after 
what  has  been  said,  that  we  are  no  longer  Christians 
in  the  sense  attached  to  the  term  by  the  ancient 
creed  of  any  denomination  •  and  whether  we  shall 
be  able  to  yield  our  assent  to  any  of  the  diverse 
nuances  assumed  by  the  Christianity  of  the  day, 
can  with  us  be  a  question  only  in  so  far  as  it  has 
refejence  to  the  most  advanced  and  enlightened 
among  them.  Nevertheless,  even  as  to  this  many 
things  would  remain  incomprehensible  if  we  had 
not,  at  least  in  its  outlines,  first  brought  the  old 
Christian  faith  before  our  mind's  eye  ;  as  only  by  aid 
of  the  pure  aboriginal  form  will  mixed  forms  be 
found  possible  of  comprehension. 


14  TJie  Old  Faith  and  the  New. 

Would  we  know  the  nature  of  the  old,  unadul- 
terated creed,  and  the  effect  it  would  produce  upon 
us  to-day,  then  let  us  not  go  to  a  modern  theologian, 
even  an  orthodox  one,  with  whom  it  akeady  in- 
variably appears  in  a  diluted  form;  but  let  us  draw  it 
at  the  fountain-head,  from  one  of  the  old  confessions 
of  faith.  We  will  take  that  which  is  fundamentally 
the  most  ancient,  and  which  still  continues  to  be  used 
by  the  Church,  the  so-called  Apostles'  Creed,  while 
occasionally  supplementing  and  elucidating  it  by 
later  doctrinal  definitions. 

The  Apostles'  Creed  is  divided  into  three  articles, 
according  to  the  pattern  of  the  Divine  Trinity,  the 
fundamental  dogma  of  ancient  orthodoxy.  This 
Trinity  itself  it  does  not  further  express ;  but  the 
later  confessions  of  faith,  the  Niccne  and  the  so- 
called  Athanasian  Creed,  do  this  all  the  more.  "  The 
Catholic  Faith,"  says  the  latter,  "  is  this :  That 
we  worship  one  God  in  Trinity,  and  Trinity  in 
Unity;  neither  confounding  the  Persons,  nor  divid- 
ing the  Substance.  For  there  is  one  Person  of  the 
Father,  another  of  the  Son,  and  another  of  the  Holy 
Ghost :  and  yet  all  three  are  but  one  God." 

It  would  really  seem  as  if  the  more  ignorant  those 
old  Christians  were  of  all  the  facts  of  nature,  the 
more  brain-iorce  they  possessed  lor  such  like  trans- 


Arc   We  Still  Christians  f  15 

cendental  subtleties ;  for  the  kinds  of  claims  on  tlieir 
reasoning  faculties,  which  it  simply  paralyzes  ours 
to  recognize,  such  as  conceiving  of  three  as  one  and 
one  as  three,  were  a  trifle  to  them,  nay,  a  favourite 
pursuit,  in  which  they  lived  and  had  their  being, 
about  which  they  could  fight  for  centuries  with  all 
the  weapons  of  acumen  and  of  sophistry,  but  at  the 
same  time  with  a  passion  which  did  not  shrink 
from  violence  and  the  shedding  of  blood. 

One  of  the  reformers  even  condemned  to  the  stake 
a  meritorious  physician  and  naturalist,  whose  only 
weakness  was  that  he  could  not  let  theology  alone, 
for  holding  heretical  notions  as  to  this  doctrine. 

We  moderns  can  no  longer  either  excite  or  even 
interest  ourselves  about  such  a  dogma;  nay,  we 
are  only  capable  of  conceiving  the  matter  at  all 
when  we  conceive  something  else  in  regard  to  it, 
i.e.y  put  an  interpretation  of  our  own  upon  it ;  in- 
stead of  which,  however,  we  shall  do  better  to  make 
clear  to  ourselves  how  the  ancient  Christians  gradu- 
ally came  by  so  strange  a  doctrine.  This,  however, 
belongs  to  the  church  history,  which  also  shows  us 
in  what  manner  Christians  of  more  recent  times 
again  drifted  away  from  this  belief,  for  if  still 
outwardly  professed,  it  has  nevertheless  lost  its 
former  vitalitv  even  in  circles  otherwise  orthodox. 


1 6  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New, 

5. 

The  first  article  of  the  Apostles'  Creed  simply 
declares  at  once  the  belief  in  God  the  Almighty 
Fathei-,  the  maker  of  heaven  and  earth.  We  shall 
have  occasion  to  recur  to  this  general  conception 
;  of  a  world-creating  Deity,  as  being  a  primitive  reli- 
/gious  conception;  now  let  us  cast  a  glance  at  those 
more  particular  definitions  which  the  ecclesiastical 
idea  of  creation  derived  from  the  biblical  narrative 
in  the  first  chapter  of  Genesis,  and  which  forthwith 
became  stereotyped  articles  of  faith. 

This  is  the  famous  doctrine  of  the  six  days'  work, 
according  to  which  God  did  not  create  the  worl  1  by 
one  simple  act  of  volition  once  for  all,  but  little  by 
little,  according  to  the  Jewish  division  of  a  week  into 
six  days.  If  we  accept  this  narrative  as  it  stands, 
if  we  conceive  of  it  as  a  product  of  its  time,  compar- 
ing it  with  the  traditions  of  creation  or  cosmogonies 
which  obtained  among  the  ancients,  then  with  all  its 
childishness  we  shall  find  it  pregnant  w^ith  sugges- 
tion, and  regard  it  with  a  mixture  of  pleasure  and 
respect.  Nor  shall  we  make  it  a  reproach  to  the 
old  Hebrew  prophet  that  he  was  ignorant  of  the 
\  system  of  Copernicus,  of  the  modern  discoveries  in 
geology.     How  unjust  to  such  a  biblical  narrative, 


Are  We  Still  Christians  ?  1 7 

in  itself  dear  and  venerable,  to  thus  petrify  it  into 
a  dogma  !  For  it  becomes  then  at  once  a  barrier,  an 
obstructive  rampart,  against  which  the  whole  onset 
of  progressive  reason  and  all  the  battering-rams  of 
criticism  now  strike  with  passionate  antipathy.  So 
especially  has  it  fared  with  the  Mosaic  cosmogony, 
which,  once  erected  into  a  dogma,  arrayed  all  modern 
science  in  arms  against  itself. 

The  order  in  which,  according  to  its  version,  the 
creation  of  the  various  heavenly  bodies  succeeds 
each  other,  met  with  the  strongest  opposition.  These, 
according  to  it,  appear  too  late  on  the  scene  of 
action  in  every  respect.  The  creation  of  the  sun 
takes  place  on  the  fourth  day  only,  when  the  changes 
of  day  and  night,  inconceivable  with  the  sun  omitted, 
are  stated  to  have  already  taken  place  for  three 
days.  Moreover,  the  creation  of  the  earth  precedes 
that  of  the  sun  by  several  days,  and  to  the  latter  as 
well  as  to  the  moon  is  ascribed  a  subordinate  posi- 
tion with  regard  to  the  earthy  while  only  casual 
mention  is  made  of  the  stars  :  a  perversion  of  the 
true  relations  governing  heavenly  bodies  unbecom- 
ing a  divinely-inspired  account  of  the  creation. 
A  fact  no  less  striking  is  the  statement  that 
God  took  no  less  than  five  days  to  create  and 
fashion   forth   the    earth,  while  for  the  making  of 

VOL.  I.  C 


1 8  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New, 

the  sun,  tlie  whole  starry  host  as  well  as  the  planets 
— not  such  in  the  biblical  narrative,  it  is  true,  but 
merely  lighted  candles, — he  allowed  himself  only 
one  day. 

If  such  were  the  scruples  of  astronomy,  geology 
soon  added  others  of  no  less  moment.  The  sea 
and  earth  are  said  to  have  been  divided  from 
each  other  on  the  third  day,  and  vegetation  more- 
over created  in  all  its  forms;  whereas  our  geolo- 
gists now  no  longer  speak  of  thousands  but  of 
hundreds  of  thousands  of  years  as  having  been 
required  by  formative  processes  of  this  nature.  On 
the  sixth  day — excepting  the  fowl,  which  were  made 
on  the  one  preceding  it — all  the  beasts  of  the  earth, 
not  omitting  every  creeping  thing,  and  man  himself 
at  the  last,  are  said  to  have  been  called  into  being ; 
processes  of  growth  for  which,  as  shown  by  modern 
science,  periods  of  immeasurable  duration  were  no 
less  requisite. 

6. 

Now  there  exist,  it  is  true,  not  only  theologians  but 
even  naturalists  of  our  own  time  who  are  prepared 
with  all  sorts  of  little  nostrums  for  cases  of  this  sort. 
That  God  made  the  sun  three  days  after  he  had 
already  made  the  earth  means,  according  to  them. 


Are  We  Still  Christians  1  19 

that  then  for  the  first  time  it  became  visible  to  the 
cloud-environed  globe  of  earth;  and  the  days, 
although  included  unmistakably  between  sunset 
and  dawn,  are  explained  as  referring  not  to  days 
of  twelve  or  twenty-four  hours  each,  but  as  being 
geological  periods,  capable  of  being  extended  to  any 
length  that  may  be  considered  requisite. 

He,  however,  who  is  seriously  convinced  of  the 
old  Christian  belief,  ought  on  the  contrary  to  say : 
"A  fig  for  science ;  thus  it  stands  in  the  Bible,  and  the 
Bible  is  the  word  of  God."  The  Church,  and  more 
especially  the  Protestant  Church,  takes  this  designa- 
tion avb  pied  de  la  lettre.  The  various  books  of 
Holy  Scripture  were,  it  is  admitted,  written  by 
men,  but  these  were  not  abandoned  to  their  own 
imperfect  memory  and  fallacious  reason,  but  God 
himself  (i.e.  the  Holy  Spirit)  was  the  inspirer 
of  these  writings ;  and  what  God  inspires  must  1 
be  infallible  truth.  The  narrative  of  these  books  is 
therefore  to  be  accepted  with  unqualified  historical 
assent,  their  teaching  is  no  less  unreservedly  to  be 
received  as  the  standard  by  which  our  actions  and 
our  faith  are  to  be  regulated.  There  can  be  no 
question  in  the  Bible  of  false  and  contradictory 
statements,  of  mistaken  opinions  and  judgments. 
Let  reason  recoil  ever  so  much  from  what  it  relates 


20  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New, 

or  would  enjoin  on  us;  when  God  speaks,  then  a 
modest  silence  can  alone  befit  the  mere  human 
understanding. 

"But  what  if  Scripture  were  not  the  word  of 
God  ?  "  Indeed;  then  explain  how  Isaiah  could  by 
merely  human  knowledge  have  predicted  that  Jesus 
should  be  the  offspring  of  a  virgin;  how  Micah 
could  have  foretold  that  he  would  be  born  at 
Bethlehem.  How  could  tiie  same  Isaiah,  a  century 
and  a  half  before  the  Persian  C3rrus,  have  named 
him  as  the  deliverer  of  the  Jews  from  the  Baby- 
lonian captivity,  which  had  not  then  taken  place  ? 
How,  without  divine  inspiration,  could  Daniel,  in 
the  days  of  Nebuchadnezzar  and  Cyrus,  have  fore- 
told so  many  particular  incidents  in  the  history  of 
Alexander  the  Great  and  his  successors  down  to 
Antiochus  Epiphanes  ? 

Alas  !  all  this  has  now  found  but  too  satisfactory 
a  solution — satisfactor}^  for  science  that  is  to  say, 
very  unsatisfactory  indeed  for  the  old  religion. 
Isaiah  prophesying  of  the  virgin's  son,  Micah  with 
his  ruler  from  Bethlehem,  had  not  the  most  remote 
.  idea  of  our  Jesus.  The  last  third-part  of  the  so-called 
prophecies  of  Isaiah  proceeds  from  a  contemporary 
of  Cyrus,  the  entire  book  of  Daniel  from  a  contem- 
porary of  Antiochus,  of  whom  therefore  they  could 


Are  We  Still  Christimis  ?  2 1 

prophesy  in  a  very  human  manner  indeed,  after  or 
during  the  fulfihnent  of  their  predictions.  Facts  of 
a  similar  nature  have  long  since  been  ascertained  in 
reo'ard  to  other  books  of  the  Bible :  we  no  long^er 
1-eckon  a  Moses,  a  Samuel,  amongst  its  authors ;  the 
writings  bearing  their  names  have  been  recognized 
as  compilations  of  much  later  dato,  into  which  older 
pieces  of  various  epochs  have  been  inserted  with  but 
small  discernment  and  much  deliberate  design.  It 
is  known  that  in  regard  to  the  writings  of  the  New 
Testament  there  has  been  a  like  result  in  the  main, 
and  of  this  we  shall  presently  have  occasion  to  give 
a  more  detailed  account. 

7. 

We  liave  already  been  led  far  away  from  the 
Apostles'  Creed,  but  its  first  article  is  really  too  con- 
cise. Let  us  rather  therefore  take  one  more  step  in 
Genesis,  the  second  and  third  chapters  of  which  have, 
like  the  first,  served  as  a  basis  for  the  Christian 
dogma.  The  history  of  creation  is  succeeded  by  the 
so-called  Fall  of  Man  :  a  point  of  far-reaching  im- 
portance, as,  in  order  to  abolish  its  consequences, 
the  Saviour  was,  in  the  course  of  time,  to  be  sent 
into  the  world. 

Here,  as  in  the  history  of  creation,  we  shall  find 


2  2  The  Old  Faith  and  the  Ä^ew, 

that  in  the  ancient  story  we  have  to  deal  with  a 
didactic  poem,  which,  of  itself  deserving  our  esteem, 
has,  on  account  of  its  erection  into  a  dogma,  had  the 
misfortune  to  incur  much  misinterpretation,  then 
censure  and  antagonism.  The  poet  wishes  to  ex- 
plain how  all  the  evil  and  misery  under  which  man 
suffers  at  present  came  into  a  world  which  God 
must  undoubtedly  have  created  good.  The  fault  of 
God  it  cannot  be,  entirely  man's  it  must  not  be.  A 
tempter,  therefore,  is  introduced,  who  persuades  our 
first  parents  to  transgress  the  divine  commandment. 
This  tempter  is  the  serpent. 

By  it  the  author  of  the  story  simply  meant  the 
well-known  mysterious  animal  of  which  remote 
antiquity  could  relate  so  many  marvels ;  but  sub- 
sequent Judaism  and  Christendom  understood  by 
it  the  devil,  who  having  emigrated  from  the  Zend 
religion  into  the  Jewish,  was  destined  to  play  so  im- 
portant a  part  in  it,  and  one  still  more  so  in  Chris- 
tianity. 

Only  think  of  Luther,  who  lived  and  had  his 
being  in  the  doctrine  of  demonism.  At  every  step 
he  took,  he  fell  foul  of  the  arch-fiend.  Not  only 
evil  thoughts  and  temptations,  nay,  even  outward 
misfortunes  to  which  man  is  subject,  such  as  disease 
and  sudden  death,  destructive  fires  and  hailstorms, 


Are  We  Still  Christians  ?  2^ 

were  ascribed  by  him  to  the  immediate  influence  of 
the  devil  and  his  infernal  crew.  However  undeni- 
ably this  proves  the  low  state  of  his  scientific 
knowledge,  as  well  as  of  his  general  culture,  never- 
theless the  delusions  of  great  men  may  occasionally 
assume  grand  proportions.  Eveiybody  knows 
Luther's  utterance  about  the  devils  at  Worms : 
"  Were  there  as  many  of  them  as  tiles  upon  the 
houses;"  but  on  his  way  thither  he  had  already  had 
a  tussle  with  the  old  enemy  of  mankind.  Wliile  he 
was  preaching,  on  his  passage  through  Erfurt,  the 
overcrowded  church-gallery  began  to  crack.  Great 
was  the  dismay,  a  sudden  panic  and  a  consequent 
catastrophe  might  be  apprehended.  Then  Luther 
from  his  pulpit  began  to  thunder  at  the  devil,  whose 
hand  he  clearly  recognized  in  the  mischief,  but 
whom  he  would  counsel  to  bide  quiet  for  the  future  ; 
and  behold  quiet  is  restored,  and  Luther  able  to 
conclude  his  sermon. 

Eut  who  sups  with  the  devil  should  liave  a  long 
spoon.  He  could  not  be  burned,  fire  being  his  ele- 
ment ;  but  it  was  quite  otherwise  with  those  poor 
old  women,  who  were  reported  to  have  wrought  by 
his  aid  those  very  evils,  such  as  maladies,  hail- 
storms, etc.,  which  Luther  scrupled  not  to  ascribe 
to  Satan.     And  while  trials  for  witchcraft  form  one 


24  The  Old  Faith  a7id  the  Neiv, 

of  the  most  horrible  and  shameful  records  of  Chris- 
tianity, one  of  its  ugliest  features  is  the  belief  in 
the  devil,  and  the  degree  in  which  this  formidable 
caricature  still  rules  people's  minds  or  has  been 
ejected  thence,  is  a  very  fair  measure  of  their  civi- 
lization. 

On  the  other  hand,  however,  the  removal  of  so 
essential  a  support  is  fraught  with  danger  to  the 
entire  Christian  edifice.  Goethe  in  his  youth  once 
remarked  to  Bahrdt,  that  this,  if  any,  was  a  tho- 
roughly biblical  conception.  If  Christ,  as  St.  John 
writes,  appeared  on  earth  in  order  to  destroy  the 
1  works  of  the  devil,  he  might  have  been  dispensed 
with  if  no  devil  had  existed. 

8. 

But  the  serpent  was  not  the  only  Hebrew  symbol 
upon  which  a  different  construction  was  put  by  the 
Christian  dogma.  The  author  of  the  story  wished 
to  explain  man's  misery ;  the  Christian  interpreta- 
tion made  him  first  explain  man's  sinfulness. 
Again,  he  had  actually  understood  physical  death 
as  that  with  which  God  punished  the  disobedience 
of  our  first  parents;  the  Christian  dogma  under- 
stood it  as  signifying  also  spiritual  death,  i.e.,  ever- 
lasting perdition.     Through  the  fall  of  Adam  and 


Are  We  Still  Christians  ?  25 

Eve,  sin,  as  well  as  damnation,  is  tlie  inheritance  of 
the  whole  human  race. 

This  is  the  notorious  doctrine  of  original  sin,  one 
of  the  pillars  of  Christendom.  The  Augsl^urg  creed 
defines  it  thus  :  "After  the  fall  of  Adam  all  naturally- 
begotten  men  (here  a  margin  is  left  for  the  excep- 
tional case  of  Christ)  are  born  in  sin,  i.e.,  without 
the  fear  of,  or  trust  in,  God,  and  with  the  propensity 
to  evil;  and  further,  this  hereditary  disease  or 
fault  constitutes  in  very  deed  a  sin,  even  now 
bringing  death  everlasting  to  those  not  born  again 
through  baptism  and  the  Holy  Ghost." 

On  the  plea  of  a  corruption,  therefore,  of  which 
the  individual  has  not  been  himself  the  cause,  of 
which  neither  is  it  given  him  to  free  himself  of  his 
own  power,  he  is  to  be  condemned,  he  and  the  entire 
progeny  of  a  childish  and  inexperienced  pair — not 
excepting  even  the  innocent  little  ones  who  die 
unbaptized — to  the  everlasting  torments  of  hell! 
It  is  astonishing  how  a  conception  equally  revolt- 
ing to  man's  reason  and  sense  of  justice,  a  con- 
ception which  transforms  God  from  an  object  of 
adoration  and  affection  into  a  hideous  and  detest- 
able being,  could  at  any  time,  however  barbarous, 
have  been  found  acceptable,  or  how  the  casuistries 
by  which  people   strove  to  modify  its  harshness 


26  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New, 

could  ever  even  have  been  listened  to  with  common 
patience. 

'  9. 

But  we  shall  be  reminded  here  that  Christ  was 
sent  into  the  world  to  cure  the  mischief  caused  by 
the  devil,  and  thus  are  brought  back  to  the  Apostles' 
Creed,  of  which  the  second  article,  arising  out  of 
the  first  concerning  God  the  Father,  is  as  follows : 
And  I  believe  in  Jesus  Christ,  His  only  Son  our 
Lord ;  who  was  conceived  by  the  Holy  Ghost,  born 
of  the  Virgin  Mary,  suffered  under  Pontius  Pilate, 
was  crucified,  dead,  and  buried ;  He  descended  into 
hell;  on  the  third  day  He  rose  again  from  the  dead; 
He  ascended  into  heaven,  and  sitteth  at  the  right 
hand  of  God  the  Father  Almighty;  from  thence  He 
shall  come  again  to  judge  the  quick  and  the  dead." 

The  singularity  here  is  that  of  all  the  different 
points  enumerated  we  at  this  day  accord  belief, 
iiay,  are  onJy  able  to  attach  some  sort  of  an  idea  to 
those  which,  as  regards  belief  in  the  sense  of  dogma, 
have  no  specific  value  of  their  own,  because  they 
only  predicate  that  of  Christ  which  might  equally 
aijply  to  any  man.  What  the  only  begotten  Son 
of  God  the  Father  may  be  we  no  longer  can  tell. 
The  "  conceived  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  born  of   the 


Are  We  Still  CJirisiiaiis?  27 

Virgin  Mary,"  savours  of  mythology,  only  that 
Greek  incarnations  appear  to  us  more  felicitously 
invented  than  this  Christian  one.  The  agony  and 
crucifixion  under  Pontius  Pilate,  we,  as  before 
mentioned,  have  no  desire  to  dispute,  as  not  unlikely 
in  itself,  and  having  moreover  the  Roman  histo- 
rian's testimony  in  its  support.  All  the  more  won- 
derful is  that  which  now  follows.  The  descent 
into  hell  is  not  attested  by  even  one  Evangelist. 
On  the  other  hand,  they  all  bear  testimony  to  the 
resurrection,  but  not  one  of  them  was  an  eye- 
witness, and  it  is  described  in  a  different  manner  by 
all;  in  short,  attested  like  any  other  event  that 
we  are  compelled  to  regard  as  unhistorical.  And 
what  sort  of  an  event  ?  One  so  impossible,  in  such 
direct  antagonism  to  every  laAV  of  nature,  that  it 
would  require  a  testimony  of  tenfold  reliability/ 
to  be  as  much  as  discussed,  not  scouted  from  the 
very  first.  Finally,  comes  the  ascension  into  heaven, 
where  we  know  the  heavenly  bodies,  but  no  longer 
the  throne  of  God  at  whose  right  hand  it  would 
be  possible  to  sit ;  then  the  return  to  judgment 
on  the  day  of  doom,  a  thing  which  we  can  form 
no  idea  of,  as  we  admit  either  no  divine  judgment, 
or  only  such  as  fulfils  itself  hour  by  hour  and 
day  by  day. 


28  Tlie  Old  FaitJi  a?td  the  New, 

Tliese,  however,  are  not  the  fantastic  notions  of  a 
later  creed,  but,  like  the  devil  himself,  emphatically 
the  doctrines  of  the  Nevs^  Testament. 

10. 

The  second  article  of  the  Apostles'  Creed  is 
termed  by  the  abridged  Lutheran  Catechism  that  of 
the  scheme  of  salvation,  and  it  therefore  comments 
upon  it  especially  from  this  point  of  view.  It 
speaks  of  Christ  as  Him  "  who  has  redeemed  me,  a 
lost  and  ruined  man,  and  delivered  me  from  all  sin, 
from  death  and  the  power  of  Satan,  not  by  silver 
and  gold,  but  by  His  sacred  precious  blood  and  His 
sinless  agony  and  death." 

This  is  the  only  genuine  ecclesiastical  conception 
of  a  Redeemer  and  his  redemption.  We,  by  the 
fall  of  our  first  parents,  as  well  as  by  our  own  sin, 
had  deserved  death  and  everlasting  damnation,  had 
already  been  delivered  to  the  dominion  of  Satan, 
but  Jesus  came,  took  upon  himself  death  in  its  most 
painful  form,  bore  the  Divine  wrath  in  our  stead, 
and  in  consequence  delivered  us — if  only  we  will 
believe  in  him  and  the  efficacy  of  his  death — from 
the  punishment  which  was  our  due,  or  at  least  from 
its  principal  feature,  eternal  domination. 

Luther  contrasts  this  death,  by  means  of  Avhich 


Are  IV e  Still  Christians  ?  29 

Christ  ransomed  us,  with  gold  and  silver,  which 
could  have  accomplished  nothing.  But  these, 
althougli  biblical  expressions,  no  longer  represent  the 
original  antithesis ;  this  is  to  be  found  in  the  Epistle 
to  the  Hebrews :  it  says  that,  not  by  the  blood  of 
goats  and  calves,  but  by  his  own,  had  Christ 
achieved  this  deliverance.  The  Christian  scheme 
of  the  atonement  had  its  origin  in  the  sacrificial 
rites  of  the  ancient  Jews.  A  pious  sentiment  is  no 
doubt  at  the  root  of  this  extremely  ancient  usage  of 
propitiatory  offerings,  but  it  is  enveloped  in  a  rough 
husk,  and  we  can  by  no  means  regard  the  transmu- 
tation it  has  undergone  by  Christianity  in  the  light 
of  a  purification.  On  the  contrary,  everybody  knows 
that  the  sacrifices  whereby  rude  nations  fancied  they 
could  pacify  the  anger  of  their  gods  were  originally'  / 
sacrifices  of  human  beings.  It  was  therefore  a  pro- 
gress towards  refinement  when  they  began  to  sacrifice 
animals  in  their  stead.  But  now,  once  again,  the 
human  sacrifice  was  substituted  for  that  of  the 
animal.  True,  it  was  only  by  way  of  an  allegory ; 
there  was  no  question  of  a  victim  offered  up  with 
formal  sacrificial  rites,  on  the  contrary,  the  criminal 
condemnation  and  execution  of  the  Messiah,  the  Son 
of  God,  who  resigned  himself  meekly  to  his  fate — 
decreed  by  a  deluded  people  and  its  rulers — was 


30  The  Old  Faith  and  the  JVezv, 

looked  upon  as  an  atoning  sacrifice.  But,  as  hap- 
pens in  such  cases,  the  allegory  was  not  suiFered 
to  remain  such.  God  himself  had  pre-ordained  it 
thus;  and  the  condition  on  which  he  would  or 
could  extend  his  pardon  to  men  was  that  Jesus 
should  let  himself  be  slaughtered  for  their  sakes. 

11. 

If  the  life  of  an  innocent  person  is  taken  at  all, 
whether  by  rude  violence  or  an  unjust  sentence, — 
and  especially  if  this  happen  in  consequence  of  a 
truth  he  has  enunciated,  of  a  good  cause  by  him 
represented,  and  for  which  he  suffers  a  martyr's 
death, — an  effect  never  fails  to  ensue,  varying  only 
in  kind  and  influence  according  to  the  position  and 
the  importance  of  the  murdered  man.  The  execu- 
tion of  a  Socrates  and  a  Giordano  Bruno,  of  a 
Charles  I.  and  a  Louis  XVI.,  of  an  Oklenbarne- 
veldt  and  a  Jean  Galas,  each  produced  an  impres- 
sion of  a  certain  nature  and  within  a  certain 
sphere.  What  these  cases  had  in  common,  however, 
was  that  their  efficacy  was  of  a  moral  nature,  the 
result  of  the  impression  they  had  wrought  on 
men's  minds. 

A  like  moral  efficacy  belonged  to  the  death  of 
Jesus;    the    profound   and   moving   impression   it 


Are  We  Still  Christians  ?  3  \ 

made  on  the  minds  of  his  disciples,  the  change  of 
their  views  as  to  the  mission  of  the  Messiah  and  of 
the  nature  of  his  kingdom  which  it  produced  in 
them  is  matter  of  history.  According  to  the  cliurcli, 
however,  this  was  the  most  insignificant  part  of  the 
result.  The  chief  efficacy  of  the  death  of  Jesus, 
and  its  especial  object,  was  rather,  so  to  speak,  a 
metaphysical  one ;  not  mainly  in  the  minds  of  men, 
but  above  all  in  the  relation  of  God  to  man  some- 
thing was  to  be  changed,  and  actually  was  changed, 
by  this  death ;  it,  as  we  have  heard  already,  satisfied 
the  wrath,  the  severe  justice  of  God,  and  enabled 
him,  in  spite  of  their  sins,  again  to  bestow  his 
mercy  upon  mankind. 

It  can  scarcely  need  to  be  pointed  out  that  a  per- 
fect jumble  of  the  crudest  conceptions  is  comprised 
in  this  one  of  an  atoning  death,  of  a  propitiation  by 
proxy.  To  punish  some  one  for  another's  trans- 
gression, to  accept  even  the  voluntarysufFeringof  the 
innocent  and  let  the  guilty  escape  scathless  in  con- 
sequence, this,  everybody  admits  now,  is  a  barbarous 
action ;  to  consider  it  matter  of  indifference  in  re- 
gard to  a  moral  or  a  pecuniary  debt,  whether  it  be 
discharged  by  the  debtor  or  by  some  one  else  in 
his  stead,  is,  everybody  now  admits,  a  barbarous 
conception. 


^2  The  Old  FaiiJi  and  the  Ahw, 

If  the  impossibility  of  such  a  transfer  has  once 
been  acknowledged,  then  it  no  longer  signifies 
whether  the  vicarious  sufferer  to  be  transferred 
is  an  ordinary  man  or  the  incarnate  God.  On 
this  point,  however,  the  Church  notoriously  laid 
especial  stress.  "  If  I  believe,"  said  Luther,  "  that 
by  His  human  nature  alone  did  Christ  suffer  for 
my  sake,  I  should  account  Him  but  a  sorry  Saviour 
who  needed  a  Saviour  himself.  True,  the  Godhead 
cannot  suffer  and  die,  but  the  Person  that  is  very 
God  doth  suffer  and  dies ;  it  is  right  therefore  to 
say,  the  Son  of  God  has  died  for  me." 

This  union  of  the  two  natures  in  the  single  per- 
son of  Christ,  and  the  interchange  of  their  mutual 
properties,  was  still  further  developed  into  a  system 
by  the  Church,  the  super-subtle  doctrines  of  which 
must  needs  completely  extinguish  the  historic 
human  personality  of  Christ,  wiiile  the  relation 
which  the  heavenly  Father  bore  to  this  atonement 
of  the  Son,  inspired  a  Diderot  with  the  sarcasm : 
"  II  n'y  a  point  de  bon  pere  qui  voulut  ressembler  a 
notre  pere  celeste." 

12. 

The  Apostles'  Creed  concludes  its  scheme  of  the 
Christian  faith  by  the  third  article,  which  reads  as 


Are  We  Still  Christians'^  33 

follows:  "I  believe  in  the  Holy  Ghost,  the  Holy 
Catholic  Church,  the  communion  of  saints,  the  for- 
giveness of  sins,  the  resurrection  of  the  body,  and 
the  life  everlasting." 

The  second  person  of  the  Godhead,  in  its  union 
with  human  nature,  has,  as  stated,  obtained  for  us 
the  remission  of  sins ;  but,  in  order  that  we  may 
actually  become  partakers  in  this,  the  third  person, 
the  Holy  Ghost,  must  also  now  emerge  into  activity 
and,  so  to  speak,  transmit  it  to  us.  This  is  effected 
by  the  Church  and  the  means  of  grace  which  are 
especially  presided  over  by  this  alleged  third  person 
of  the  Deity. 

The  Word  of  God  is  preached  in  the  Church,  and 
this  in  its  essence  is  preaching  the  cross,  i.e.,  the 
doctrine  of  the  remission  of  sins  by  the  death  of 
Christ,  and  that  because  of  our  faith  in  this  effect  of 
Jesus'  death  we  shall  be  justified  before  God,  with- 
out respect  to  works, to  the  improvement  of 

our  lives,  by  which,  indeed,  a  genuine  faith  must 
necessarily  be  attended,  but  which  does  not  signify 
in  the  sight  of  God,  who  only  regards  us  as 
righteous  in  so  far  as  we  shall  by  this  faith  have 
vicariously  acquired  Christ's  righteousness.  Thus 
spake  Luther,  in  opposition  to  the  Catholic  practice 
of  his  days,  which  thought  to  obtain  justification  in 


34  The  Old  Faith  and  the  Neiv, 

the  sight  of  God  by  outward  Avorks,  fasting,  pil- 
grimage, and  the  like.  If  in  contrast  to  these 
tri\ial  superficialities  Luther  had  emphasized  the 
moral  disposition  as  the  one  thing  needful,  had  he 
further  proclaimed  that  God  is  satisfied  to  take  account 
of  earnestness  and  purity  of  heart,  for,  whatever  man 
may  accomplish,  the  fulfilment  of  the  moral  pur- 
pose must  always  remain  very  imperfect  in  him : 
then  we  must  have  awarded  him  the  palm  above 
the  Catholic  Church  for  the  refinement  and  pro- 
fundity of  his  conception  of  man's  relations  to 
God.  But  his  doctrine  of  justifying  faith,  to  which 
uprightness  of  intention  was  quite  subordinate, 
was  strained  to  excess  on  the  one  hand,  and  ex- 
tremely perilous  to  morality  on  the  other. 

In  addition  to  the  Word,  the  Sacraments  act  in 
the  Church  as  channels  of  the  remission  of  sin. 
Of  these  the  Eucharist,  as  everybody  knows,  has 
caused  about  the  same  amount  of  strife  and  warfare 
in  the  West  as  the  doctrine  of  the  Trinity  in  the 
East.  And  yet  to  us  in  our  day  the  question,  so 
violently  debated  in  the  time  of  the  Reformation, 
as  to  whether  and  how  something  of  the  actual 
body  of  Chiist  w^ere  partaken  of  in  the  Communion, 
has  become  as  indifferent  and  incomprehensible 
as   that   other,   whether    God   the    Son   is   of  the 


Are  We  Still  Christians  J  35 

same  or  only  of  similar  essence  with  the  Father.  In 
the  interdependence  of  the  Christian  system,  how- 
ever, the  other  principal  sacrament,  Baptism,  plays 
a  still  more  important  part.  "  He  who  believe.^ 
and  is  baptised  shall  be  saved,"  Christ  had  said :  he 
therefore,  who  is  not  baptised,  shall  be  damned. 
But  is  it  always  man's  own  fault  that  he  is  not 
baptised  ?  What  of  the  little  children,  for  example, 
who  die  before  baptism  ?  Or  of  those  millions  of 
.  pagans  who  died  ere  baptism  was  instituted  ?  Or 
of  those  millions  of  heathens  who  even  now  in 
distant  regions  know  scarcely  anything  of  baptism 
and  Christianity  ?  The  Augsburg  Confession  ex- 
pressly says :  "  We  condemn  the  Anabaptists,  who 
assert  that  unbaptised  children  can  be  saved." 
Only  the  humanist  Zwingli  was  humane  enough  to 
translate  virtuous  pagans  like  Socrates  and  Aiis- 
tides  to  heaven,  in  spite  of  their  unbaptised  condi- 
tion, without  further  ado. 

13. 
The  conception  of  the  resurrection  of  the  borly, 
so  acceptable  to  Jewish  believers  in  the  Messiah 
and  to  Hebrew  Christians,  has  in  our  own  time 
become  a  stumbling-block  to  orthodoxy  itself  The 
Jew  was   by  no  means  inclined  to  lose  his  share 


36  The  Old  Faith  and  the  Neiü, 

in  the  anticipated  glories  of  the  Messiah's  day,  even 
if  it  should  find  him  in  his  grave ;  but  this  could 
only  be  his  portion  if  his  spirit,  recalled  by  God  or 
the  Messiah  from  the  shadowy  realm  where  in  the 
meanwhile  it  had  drao^cred  on  a  dismal  existence, 
and  reunited  to  the  resuscitated  body,  should  thus 
be  rendered  once  more  capable  of  life  and  enjoy- 
ment. And  although  the  conception  of  the  delights 
of  the  Messiah's  kingdom  gradually  assumed  a  more 
refined  character  in  Christendom,  a  certain  ma- 
terialism nevertheless  continued  to  adhere  to  the 
Church  (with  which  on  our  part  we  do  not  Cjuarrel), 
in  that  she  could  not  conceive  of  a  true  and  complete 
life  of  the  soul  without  corporeal  essence.  The 
difficulties  inherent  in  the  restoration  of  so  many 
mouldered  human  frames — frames,  more  properly 
speaking,  utterly  annihilated — were  naturally  no 
trouble  to  the  Church ;  to  overcome  them  was  the 
businass  of  omnipotence.  Our  superior  scientific 
knowledge  renders  us  but  a  poor  service  in  demon- 
strating the  simple  preposterousness  of  such  a 
conception.  And  besides,  it  is  precisely  the  most 
ardent  believers  in  immortality  who  have  now-a- 
days  come  to  be  such  arrant  spiritualists,  that, 
although  fully  trusting  in  the  possibility  of  pre- 
serving their  precious  souls  to    all    eternity,  they 


Are  We  Still  Christians'^  2>1 

are  yet  at  a  loss  to  know  what  to  do  with  their 
bodies,  at  least,  after  life  has  forsaken  its  earthly 
tabernacle. 

The  resuscitated  enter  upon  eternal  life,  but  by 
no  means  all,  for  there  is  a  twofold  resurrection, 
one  unto  life,  the  other  unto  judgment,  i.e.,  to 
everlasting  perdition.  And  unfortunately  it  ap- 
pears that  the  number  of  the  reprobate  infinitely 
exceeds  that  of  the  elect.  Damned,  in  the  first 
place,  is  the  whole  of  the  human  race  before 
Christ,  excepting  a  few  chosen  souls,  such  as  those 
of  the  Jewish  patriarchs,  who  are  liberated  from 
hell  by  a  special  interposition ;  damned,  again,  the 
heathen  of  our  own  time,  and  Jews  and  Moham- 
medans, as  well  as  the  heretics  and  the  godless  in 
Christendom  itself;  and  of  these,  the  latter  only 
because  of  their  personal  guilt,  all  the  others  solely 
on  account  of  Adam's  sin ;  their  inaccessibility  to 
Christianity,  (with  a  few  exceptions  among  those 
born  after  Christ's  time)  being  no  fault  of  theirs. 

This  is  but  an  unsatisfactory  winding  up ;  and 
any  expectation  we  might  have  entertained  of  being 
indemnified  for  so  much  that  is  revolting  in  the  first 
principles  of  the  ecclesiastical  creed,  notably  the 
doctrines  of  the  Fall  and  of  Original  Sin,  proves  to 
have  been  a  bitter  deception.     "  For  tlie  most  part, 


38  The  Old  Fait  It  and  the  New. 

nevertheless,"  says  Reimams,  "  men  go  to  the  devil, 
and  hardly  one  in  a  thousand  is  saved."  My  pious 
and  pensive  grandfather,  brooding  over  these  things, 
was  during  the  whole  of  his  life  tormented  by  this 
idea ;  even  as  in  a  hive  there  is  but  one  queen  to 
many  thousand  bees,  even  so,  argued  he,  with  men 
also  there  only  was  one  soul  saved,  to  thousands 
doomed  to  the  flames  of  hell. 

14 

Such  was  in  outline  the  old  belief  of  Christen- 
dom, and  for  the  object  we  have  in  view,  the  diver- 
sity of  confessions  makes  but  little  difference. 
Emerging  in  this  shape  from  the  age  of  the  Refor- 
mation, it  encountered  the  spirit  of  modern  times, 
whose  first  stirrings  were  already  perceptible  in  the 
seventeenth  century,  more  especially  in  England 
and  the  Netherlands.  Reason,  fortified  by  historical 
and  scientific  research,  developed  apace,  and  as  it  in- 
creased in  vigour  found  itself  less  disposed  to  accept 
the  ecclesiastical  tradition.  This  commotion  of 
intellects  first  passed  in  the  eighteenth  century 
from  England  into  France,  already  prepared  for  it 
by  Bayle,  then  to  Germany  as  well ;  so  that  in  the 
process  of  attacking  the  old  dogma  we  find  a 
special  part  undertaken  by  each  of  these  countries. 


Are  We  Still  Christians  ?  59 

To  England's  sliare  fell  that  of  the  first  assault,  and 
of  the  forging  of  the  weapons,  the  work  of  the  so- 
called  free-thinkers  or  deists ;  Frenchmen  then 
brought  these  weapons  across  the  Channel,  and 
knew  how  to  wield  them  with  briskness  and 
adroitness  in  incessant  light  skirmishing ;  while  in 
Germany  it  was  chiefly  one  man  who  silently 
undertook  the  investment  in  form  of  the  Zion  of 
Orthodoxy.  France  and  Germany  especially  seemed 
to  divide  between  them  the  parts  of  seriousness  and 
mockery;  a  Voltaire  on  the  one  side,  a  Hermann 
Samuel  Reimarus  on  the  other,  fully  typified  the 
genius  of  their  respective  nations. 

The  result  of  the  attentive  scrutiny  to  which  the 
latter  had  subjected  the  Bible  and  Christianity  had 
proved  thoroughly  unfavourable  to  both.  They 
fared  no  better  at  the  hands  of  the  grave  Reimarus 
than  with  the  scoffer  Voltaire.  In  the  whole  course 
of  biblical  history  Reimarus  had  not  only  failed  to 
discover  traces  of  the  divine,  but  had  found  on  the 
other  hand  much  of  what  is  human  in  the  worst 
sense :  the  patriarchs  he  pronounced  worldly, 
selfish,  and  crafty  men ;  Moses  an  ambitious  per- 
sonage, unscrupulous  enough  to  procure  the  enact- 
ment of  an  indifferent  code  by  deceit  and  crime; 
and  David,  the  ''man   after  God's  own  heart,"   a 


40  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New, 

cruel,  voluptuous,  and  hypocritical  despot.  Even 
as  regards  Jesus,  Reimarus  found  cause  to  regret 
that  he  had  not  confined  himself  to  the  conver- 
sion of  mankind,  instead  of  regarding  it  only  as  a 
preparation  toward  his  ambitious  scheme  of  found- 
incr  the  Messiah's  kino-dom  on  earth.  This  was 
his  ruin,  and  his  disciples  then  stole  his  corpse 
in  order  to  declare  him  risen  from  the  dead,  and  in 
consequence  make  this  fraud  the  basis  of  their  new 
religious  system  and  of  their  spiritual  power.  Nor 
does  the  Christian  system,  according  to  Reimarus, 
belie  its  origin.  Its  axioms  are  false  and  full  of 
contradictions,  entirely  opposed  to  all  rational  reli- 
gious ideas,  and  decidedly  unfavourable  to  the  moral 
improvement  of  our  race.  The  tenets  of  the  early 
Church,  which  formed  the  justification  of  this  judg- 
ment, have  been  given  in  the  foregoing  exposition. 

But  the  more  seriously  this  negative  result  pre- 
sented itself  to  the  German  intellect,  a  result  which 
the  investigation  of  the  old  faith  from  an  altei-ed 
intellectual  standpoint  seemed  to  render  inevitable, 
the  more  keenly  did  we  feel  the  necessity  of  effecting 
a  compromise.  To  turn  to-day  with  loathing  and 
contempt  from  what  but  yesterday  was  to  us  and 
the  whole  of  society  a  sacred  object  of  reverence, 
may  be  possible  to  him  who  can  get  over  the  glaring 


Are  We  Still  Christians'^  41 

contradiction  by  raillery  and  ridicule,  but  he  who 
is  impressed  by  the  gravity  of  the  subject  will  soon 
find  this  contradiction  unendurable.  Therefore  it 
was  that  Germany,  and  not  France,  became  the 
cradle  of  Rationalism. 

15. 

Rationalism  is  a  compromise  between  the  tenets 
of  the  early  Church  and  tlie  distinctly  nqgative 
result  of  its  investigation  by  modern  enlightened 
reason..  It  deems  that  although  everything  in 
biblical  history  took  place  naturally,  yet  in  the 
main  it  took  place  honestly.  The  representative 
men  of  the  Old  Testament  it  judges  to  have  been 
men  even  as  we,  but  not  worse  than  we,  on  the 
contrary,  eminent  in  many  respects;  Jesus,  it  is 
true,  was  no  Son  of  God  as  the  Christian  dogma 
has  it,  but  neither  was  he  ambitious,  nor  eager  to 
thrust  himself  forward  as  an  earthly  Messiah,  but 
rather  one  who  was  inspired  by  a  genuine  love  for 
God  and  h^s  fellow-men,  who  perished  as  a  martyr 
in  endeavouring  to  promulgate  a  purer  moral  and 
religious  creed  among  his  countrymen.  The  nume- 
rous stories  of  miracles  in  the  Bible,  especially  in 
the  Gospels,  are  founded  not  on  fraud  but  on  mis- 
conception,  natural   occurrences    being   sometimes 


42  The  Old  Faith  a7id  the  New, 

considered  miracles  by  eye-witnesses  or  historians, 
and  tlie  reader  at  other  times  putting  a  miraculous 
interpretation  upon  circumstances  which  the  nar- 
rator did  not  intend  to  relate  as  prodigies. 

The  position  which  Kationalism  occupies  in  rela- 
tion to  the  ultra  standpoint  of  a  Reimarus  shall  be 
illustrated  by  two  examples,  one  taken  from  the 
beginning  of  Holy  Writ,  the  other  from  the  end. 
The  account  of  the  Fall  of  man,  which,  indeed,  he 
considered  as  fabulous,  had  chiefly  been  denounced 
as  immoral  by  Reimarus  because  it  made  of  God — 
from  the  fact  of  his  having  planted  the  seductive 
tree  in  sight  of  a  primitive  inexperienced  pair, 
stimulated  their  desire  by  means  of  the  arbitrary 
prohibition,  and  admitted  the  instigating  serpent — 
the  veritable  author  of  the  whole  catastrophe.  But 
then,  questioned  the  rationalist"  Eichhorn,  Who 
knows  whether  the  prohit»ition  to  eat  of  the  fruit  was 
really  arbitrary  ?  The  tree  was  probably  a  poison- 
ous one,  whose  fruits  were  noxious  to  mankind. 
True,  the  prohibiting  deity  was  as  great  a  puzzle  to 
Rationalism  as  the  talking  serpent;  but  perhaps 
primaeval  man  had  once  observed  that  on  partaking 
of  the  fruit  a  serpent  had  expired  in  convulsions, 
while  at  another  time  no  harm  had  occurred 
to  the  reptile,  and  thus,  in  spite  of  these  warning 


Are  We  Still  Christians''^  43 

symptoms,  had  been  emboldened  to  venture  upon  a 
gratification  which,  although  not  im.mediately  fatal, 
yet  by  degrees  brought  death  on  himself,  and  bane- 
fuUy  affected  the  physical  and  moral  condition  of 
his  posterity. 

The  other  example  shall  be  the  resurrection  of 
Jesus.  Here,  as  we  know,  our  Reimarus  considers 
nothing  as  more  certain  than  that  the  Apostles  had 
abstracted  the  corpse  of  their  Master  from  the 
sepulchre,  in  order  to  proclaim  his  resuscitation, 
and  be  able  thenceforth  to  make  this  the  founda- 
tion of  a  new  fanatical  system  of  religion,  which 
commended  itself  to  their  ambition  and  self-interest. 
Nothing  of  the  sort!  again  interposes  the  rationalist 
The  disciples  were  the  farther  from  such  baseness 
the  less  they  stood  in  need  of  it.  Jesus  was  not 
really  dead,  although  supposed  to  be  so,  when  taken 
down  from  the  cross  and  laid  with^  spices  in  the 
sepulchral  vault;  here  he  again  recovered  con- 
sciousness, and  by  his  reappearance  astonished  his 
disciples,  who  thenceforth,  as  long  as  he  still  abode 
among  them,  in  spite  of  all  his  efforts  to  convince 
them  of  the  contrary,  regarded  him  as  a  super- 
natural being. 

This  method  of  dealing  with  biblical  history  was 
also  pursued  by  rationalism  with  respect   to   the 


44  The  Old  Faiih  and  the  New. 

doctrines  of  Christianity.  It  evaded  the  offence 
which  the  radicalism  of  the  free-thinkers  had  con- 
ceived as  postulates  antagonistic  to  reason,  or 
deductions  perilous  to  morality,  by  breaking  off  or 
blunting  its  point.  The  Trinity  in  its  eyes  was  a 
misunderstood  phrase;  mankind  not  corrupt  and 
accursed  on  Adam's  account,  but  certainly  weak 
and  sensual  by  natural  constitution  ;  Jesus  not  a 
Saviour  by  his  atoning  death,  but  nevertheless  such 
by  his  teaching  and  example,  which  exercise  an 
elevating,  therefore  a  redeeming,  influence  upon  us 
all ;  men  are  justified  not  through  faith  in  another's 
righteousness,  but  by  faithfulness  to  their  ovvn  con- 
viction,  by  the  earnest  endeavour   always   to 

shape  action  by  a  recognised  standard  of  duty. 

16. 

When  F.  C.  Schlosser,  fifty-six  years  ago,  began 
the  consecutive  narrative  of  his  "Universal  History," 
he  engaged  the  mystic  T.  F.  von  Meyer,  of  Frankfort, 
to  insert  his  own  version  of  Jewish  history.  He 
mentioned  in  his  preface  that  he  could  not  credit 
himself  with  the  pious  disposition  of  his  learned 
friend,  but  it  is  easy  to  read  between  the  lines. 
He  neither  wished  to  play  the  hypocrite,  nor  to 
place   a   stumbling-block   at   the  threshold  of  his 


Are  We  Still  Christicuis  ?  45 

deeply-planned  undertaking.     But  if  now,  on  the 
other  hand,  we  glance  over  one  of  the  more  recent 
text-books  of  ancient  or  Jewish  history,    not    one 
written  to  the  order  of  the  Ministry  of  Worship,  we 
shall  find  that  the  better  the  book  the  more  will 
Jewish  history  be  placed  on  exactly  the  same  foot- 
ing as  that  of  Greece  or  Rome,  the  more  will  the 
criticism  which  is  brought  to  bear  on  Herodotus 
and  Livy  be  applied  also  to  Genesis  and  the  Book 
of  Kings ;  that  Moses  will  be  appreciated  no  other- 
wise than  Numa  or  Lycurgus,  and  especially  will  the 
miraculous  stories  of  the  Old  Testament  be  treated 
exactly  in  the  manner  of  those  occurring  in  Greek 
and  Roman  historians.«    Thus  the  study  of  the  Old 
Testament,  regarded  hitherto  as  a  branch  of  theologi- 
cal science,  has  become  the  study  of  Jewish  literature 
in  the  same  secular  sense  as  if  it  were  the  literature 
of  Germany,  France,  and  England. 

The  difficulty  of  applying  the  purely  historical 
view  and  method  of  treatment  is  of  course  increased 
when  we  come  to  the  primitive  history  of  Chris- 
tianity and  the  writings  of  the  New  Testament.  A 
resolute  beginning,  however,  is  made,  a  solid  foun- 
dation secured.  No  modern  theologian,  who  is  also 
a  scholar,  now  considers  any  of  the  four  Gospels  to 
be  the  work  of  its  pretended  author,  or  in  fact  to 


46  The  Old  Faith  and  the  Neiv. 

be  by  an  apostle   or  the  colleague  of  an   apostle. 
The  first  three  Gospels,  as  well  as  the  Acts,  pass 
for    doctrinal    compilations   of    the    beginning    of 
the  second  century  after  Christ,  the   fourth,  since 
Baur's   epoch-making   investigation,   as   a   dogma- 
tising composition  of  the  middle  of  the  same  century. 
The  drift  of  the  first  is  decided  by  the  difierent 
positions  which  their  authors  (and  in  the   second 
place,  their  sources)  had  occupied  in  the  disputes 
between  Jewish  Christianity  and  that  of  St.  Paul ; 
the  dogma  which  the  fourth  Evangelist   proposed 
to  demonstrate  in  his  narrative    is   the    Judaico- 
Alexandrine  conception  of  Jesus  as  the  incarnate 
Logos.     Foremost  among  the  undisputed  writings 
of  the  New  Testament  are  the  first  four  Epistles  of 
the   Apostle  Paul;    but   the   present   readiness  of 
critics  to  acknowledge  the  Revelation  of  St.  John 
as  genuine  is  almost  unwelcome  to  modern  orthodoxy. 
After  the  admission  had  once  necessarily  to  be  made 
that  the  two  writings  could  not  possibly  be  by  the 
same  author,  it  would  gladly  have  got  rid  of  that 
fantastic  Judaico-zelotical  book  for  the  sake  of  more 
securely  retaining  the  Gospel  according  to  St.  John  in 
its  place.     And  now  a  malicious  criticism  simply  in- 
verted the  thing :  reft  the  Evangelist  of  his  Gospel  and 
left  him  the  Apocalypse :  and  noted  in  addition  that 


Are   We  Still  Christians?  47 

the  entire  prophecy  turned  upon  the  expectation  of 
the  fallen  Nero's  return  in  the  character  of  Antichrist, 
and  had  therefore  certainly  not  been  insj)ired  by  the 
Holy  Spirit,  but  by  a  delusion  incident  to  the  author's 
age  and  nation. 

lY. 

Things  had  not  as  yet  come  to  such  a  pass,  but 
it  needed  no  extraordinary  acumen  to  foresee  that 
they  soon  would  do  so,  when  Schleiermacher — gifted 
with  perhaps  but  too    much  acumen, — propounded 
his     system    of    theology.       He    resigned   himself 
from  the   first    to  the   possible   necessity  of  yield- 
ing the   point  of   the   genuineness    of  the   greater 
part    of    the    biblical    writings,    after    having    of 
his    own   accord    surrendered    that    of  the    tradi- 
tional  conception    of  Jewish   history,   as   well   as 
that  of  primitive  Christianity.     For  him,   no   less 
than  for  the  Rationalists,  the  historical  and  dog- 
matic value  of  the  biblical  account  of  Creation  and  \ 
the   Fall  of  man    was   null,   and   like   them  also, 
only  with  rather  better  taste,  he   knew   how,    on 
purely  rational  grounds,  to   explain   the   miracles 
recorded  in  the  Gospels,  not  excluding  the  cardinal 
one   of  the   Resurrection  of  Christ.      Neither  did 
he  retain  the  origjinal  sense  of  any  of  the  Chris- 


48  TJic  Old  Faith  and  the  Neiu. 

tiaii  dogmas ;  the  difference  consisting  only  in  tlie 
greater  ingenuity,  tliongli  sometimes  also  in  the  more 
artificial  character,  of  his  interpretation. 

Of  one  article  of  belief  only  did  he  keep  firm  hold, 
and  that  certainly  the  central  dogma  of  Christianity; 
the  doctrine  regarding  the  person  of  Christ.  In  this 
instance  the  well-meaning,  didactic,  and  itinerant 
rabbi  of  the  Rationalists  was  almost  too  insignificant, 
I  might  say,  too  prosaic,  for  him.  He  believed 
himself  able  to  prove  that  Christ  had  played  a  more 
important,  a  more  exceptional  part.  But  whence 
obtain  those  proofs  if,  after  all,  so  little  reliance 
could  be  placed  on  the  Gospels  ?  One  of  these,  as 
we  shall  see,  he  considered  as  more  authentic 
than  the  rest ;  the  real  and  certain  proof,  however, 
in  his  opinion,  lay  nearer  than  any  document  of 
Scripture.  The  early  Christians  had  been  fond  of 
alluding  to  the  witness  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  as  the  first 
assurance  of  the  truth  of  Scripture ;  Schleiermacher 
appealed  to  the  witness  of  the  Christian  conscious- 
;!  ness  as  giving  us  complete  certainty  in  regard  to 
the  Saviour.  We,  as  members  of  the  Christian 
community,  become  conscious  of  something  within 
us  which  can  only  be  explained  as  being  the  efiect 
of  such  a  cause.  This  is  the  advancement  of  our  reli- 
gious life,  the  increased  facility  v/e  find  in  efiecting 


Are   We  Still  Christians? 


49 


a  harmonious  union  between  the  lower  and  the 
higher  elements  of  our  characters.  The  union  we 
always  find  to  be  impeded  if  we  are  left  to  our  own 
nnregenerate  nature:  our  fellow-Christians,  we  are 
aware,  are  no  better  off  in  this  respect  than  our- 
selves; whence,  then,  proceeds  this  stimulus  of 
which  we  are  actually  conscious  when  members  of 
the  Christian  church  ?  It  can  only  be  derived 
from  the  founder  of  the  community,  Jesus  himself;' 
and  if  we  find  this  furtherance  of  the  religious 
life  to  proceed  from  him  for  ever,  and  from  him 
alone,  it  follows  that  the  religious  life  must  in 
him  have  been  absolute  and  perfect,  that  the  lower 
and  higher  consciousness  must  have  been  entirelj?" 
one  in  him. 

Man's  higher  consciousness  is  the  consciousness 
of  God,  which  in  us,  on  account  of  the  manifold 
obstructions  opposed  to  it,  can  only  be  called  a 
feeble  reflection ;  whereas  in  Jesus,  where  its  opera- 
tion was  unimpeded,  it  interpenetrated  his  entire 
nature,  as  revealed  in  feeling,  thought,  and  action, 
a  perfect  realization,  a  presence  of  God  in  the  form 
of  consciousness.  Thus,  in  a  fashion  of  his  ov\^n, 
Schleiermacher  again  evolves  the  divine  man, 
not  in  the  least  conceiving,  however,  as  did  the 
ecclesiastical  dogma  the  union  of  the  human  nature 


50  The  Old  Faith  and  the  Nezv, 

with  the  divine,  but  rather  representing  to  himself 
a  mere  human  soul  so  imbued  with  the  conscious- 
ness of  divinity  that  this  constitutes  its  sole  actu- 
ating principle.  Schleiermacher  also  expresses  this 
in  more  modern  phraseology :  Christ,  the  historically 
unique,  he  says,  was  at  the  same  time  the  originally 
typical,  i.e.,  on  the  one  hand,  the  ideal  type  in  him 
became  completely  historical,  and  on  the  other  hand, 
the  course  of  his  earthly  existence  was  wholly  con- 
ditioned by  the  original  typical  idea.  This  neces- 
sarily involves  his  sinlessness,  for  although  even  in 
Jesus  this  higher  consciousness  was  only  gradually 
developed  along  with  the  lower,  yet  the  relative 
strength  of  each  always  preserved  the  same  propor- 
tion, insomuch  that  the  higher  maintained  an  inva- 
riable preponderance,  and  thus  controlled  the  lower 
without  wavering  and  without  aberration. 

The  influence  which  redeems  us  in  Jesus,  there- 
fore, is  the  imparting  to  us  this  sitmulus  in  the 
religious  life  by  means  of  the  church  which  he 
established.  His  crucifixion  is  of  no  pai-ticular 
importance,  and  if  SclileieiTQacher  turns  the  eccle- 
siastical expression  "vicarious  satisfaction"  into 
"  satisfactory  substitution,"  it  is  easy  to  perceive  that 
in  reality  he  is  only  trifling  with  these  primitive 
Christian  cr»nceptions. 


Are  We  Still  Christians'^  51 

18. 

Schleiermaclier  looking  at  tlie  first  tliree  Gospels 
found  indeed  but  little  to  correspond  with  that  con- 
ception of  Christ  which  he  had  entirely  constructed 
out  of  his  supposed  subjective  experience  ;  it  accord- 
ingly cost  him  little  to  concede  the  point  of  their 
apostolic  origin,  and  to  regard  them  as  later  com- 
pilations of  very  qualified  authority.  Not  so  with 
the  fourth  Gospel.  There  he  seemed  to  be  greeted 
by  tones  in  happiest  accordance  with  the  image 
he  himself  had  constructed  of  Christ.  In  such 
utterances  of  the  Johannine  Christ  as  :  the  Son  can 
do  nothing  of  himself,  but  only  what  he  seeth  the 
Father  do;  he  who  hath  seen  me  hath  seen  the 
Father ;  all  that  is  mine  is  thine  also,  and  what  is 
thine  is  also  mine ;  in  such  and  similar  expressions 
Schleiermacher  recognized,  so  it  appeared  to  him,  a 
perfect  resemblance  to  his  own  Redeemer,  whose 
consciousness  of  God  was  in  truth  the  very  God  in 
him.  This  entire  Gospel,  in  fact,  with  its  mystic 
profundity,  yet  dialectical  acuteness,  its  peculiar 
strangeness  of  spirit,  was  so  wholly  to  Schleier- 
macher's  mind  that  he  clung  passionately  to  the 
belief  in  its  genuineness,  and  resolutely  shut  bis 
eyes  even  to  all  the  evident  reasons  for  distrust 


52  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New. 

which,  during  his  own  life-time,  Bretschneider 
marshalled  against  this  Gospel  in  compact  array.  - 
But  only  a  few  years  after  Schleiermacher 's  death 
it  came  to  pass  that,  in  the  first  place,  the  New  Tes- 
tament bulwark  of  his  Christology,  the  so-called 
Gospel  of  St.  John,  succumbed  past  recovery  to 
a  renewed  onslaught  of  criticism.  Nor  did  its 
internal  basis,  the  inference  deduced  from  the  facts 
of  Christian  consciousness  as  to  the  nature  of  the 
founder  of  the  Christian  community,  prove  itself  less 
vulnerable.  It  is  an  absolutely  gratuitous  suppo- 
sition, and,  properly  speaking,  a  remnant  of  the 
doctrine  of  origiüal  sin,  which  Schleiermacher  tried, 
in  fact,  to  set  up  again  after  a  fashion  of  his  own, 
I  to  assume  that  the  hindiance  of  the  religious  life 
1  is  exclusively  due  to  ourselves,  and  that  therefoi'e 
any  furtherance  of  this  same  life  experienced  by  us 
must  necessarily  have  a  source  external  to  us.  On 
the  contrary,  in  all  of  us  there  is  an  incessant  war- 
fare between  the  higher  and  the  lower  consciousness, 
between  the  promptings  of  reason  and  of  sense  ;  our 
religious  and  ethical  nature  meets,  from  ourselves  as 
well  as  from  others,  not  with  obstructions  only 
but  also  with  encouragement;  and  even  in  the  most 
favourable  instances  this  has  nevertheless  always 
been  but  a   relative   kind  of  stimulus,  we  are   not 


Are  We  Still  Christians  1  53 

therefore  obKged  to  seek  an  originator,  in  wtom  it 
should  exist  absokitely.  But,  granting  even  tliat  such 
had  been  the  case  with  Christ,  that  he  as  individual 
man  had,  at  each  moment  of  his  life,  personified 
within  himself  the  pure  typical  image  of  mankind, 
that  he  in  the  course  of  his  development  had  been 
free  from  fault  or  vacillation,  error  and  sin,  then  he 
would  have  essentially  diifered  from  all  other  men : 
a  conclusion  indeed  allowable  to  the  Church,  which 
regarded  him  as  begotten  by  the  Holy  Ghost,  but 
not  to  Schleiermacher,  according  to  .whom  he  came 
into  the  world  in  the  ordinary  course  of  nature. 

19. 

It  may  perhaps  surprise  us  that  the  debate  as  to 
the  truth  of  Christianity  has  at  last  narrowed  itself 
into  one  as  to  the  personality  of  its  founder,  that  the 
decisive  battle  of  Christian  theology  should  take 
place  on  the  field  of  Christ's  life;  but  in  reality  this 
is  but  what  might  have  been  expected.  The  value 
of  a  scientific  or  artistic  production  in  no  way 
depends  on  our  acquaintance  with  the  private  life 
of  him  who  produced  it.  Not  one  tittle  the  less 
highly  do  we  rate  the  author  of  Hamlet  because  we 
know  so  little  of  his  life,  nor  is  our  assurance  of  the 
worth  of  his  contemporary  Bacon's  reformation  of 


54  The  Old  Faith  and  the  N'ew. 

science  impaired  by  our  cognisance  of  many  unfavour- 
able features  in  his  character.  Even  in  the  domain 
of  religious  history  it  is  indeed  of  importance  to 
assure  ourselves  that  Moses  and  Mohammed  were 
no  impostors ;  but  in  other  respects  the  religions 
established  by  them  must  be  judged  according  to 
their  own  deserts,  irrespectively  of  the  greater  or  less 
accuracy  of  our  acquaintance  with  their  founders' 
lives.  The  reason  is  obvious.  They  are  only  the 
founders,  not  at  the  same  time  the  objects  of  the 
religions  they  instituted.  While  withdrawing  the 
veil  from  the  new  revelation,  they  themselves 
modestly  stand  aside.  They  are  indeed  objects  of 
reverence,  but  not  of  adoration. 

This  is  notoriously  otherwise  with  Christianity. 
Here  the  founder  is  at  the  same  time  the  most  pro- 
minent object  of  worship ;  the  system  based  upon 
him  loses  its  support  as  soon  as  he  is  shown  to  be 
lacking  in  the  qualiti^es  appropriate  to  an  object  of 
religious  worship.  This,  indeed  has  long  been 
apparent;  for  an  object  of  religious  adoration  must 
be  a  Divinity,  and  thinking  men  have  long  since 
ceased  to  regard  the  founder  of  Christianity  as  such. 
But  it  is  said  now  that  he  himself  never  aspired  to 
this,  that  his  deification  has  only  been  a  later  impor- 
tation into  the  Church,  and  that  if  we  seriously  look 


Are  We  Still  CJiristians?  55 

upon  liim  as  man,  we  shall  occupy  the  stanrlpoint 
which  was  also  bis  own.     But  even  admittino-  this 

o 

to  be  the  case,  nevertheless  the  whole  res^ulation  of 
our  churches,  Protestant  as  well  as  Catholic,  is 
accommodated  to  the  former  hypothesis  ;  the  Christ- 
ian cultus,  this  garment  cut  out  to  fit  an  incarnate 
God,  looks  slovenly  and  shapeless  when  but  a  mere 
man  is  invested  with  its  ample  folds. 

At  least  he  must  have  been  such  a  man  as  the 
man  framed  by  Schleiermacher  who  thoroughly  ap- 
preciates the  needs  of  the  Church;  a  man  so  fashioned 
that  in  Sehleiermachers  view  the  constitution  of  our 
religious  life  is  still,  and  must  ever  remain,  dependent 
on  him,  and  that  we  shall  certainly  have  cause  to  keep 
him  always  present  to  our  minds,  to  recall  him  to  re- 
membrance at  our  religious  meetings,  to  repeat  and 
carefully  ponder  his  words,  and  incessantly  to  dwell 
upon  the  main  factors  of  his  life. 

Sehleiermachers  reasons  for  regarding  Jesus  as/ 
such  a  man  have  not  convinced  us  ;  but  then,  who' 
knows  ?  after  all,  he  may  have  been  something 
similar ;  he  it  may  be,  after  all,  to  whom  mankind 
must  look  more  than  to  any  one  else  for  the  per- 
fecting of  its  inner  life. 

Of  this  we  shall  only  be  able  to  judge  by  study- 
ing those  records  of  his  life  which  we  still  possess. 


56  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New. 

20. 

How  could  Schleiermaclier  be  so  liiglily  edified 
by  the  Jesus  of  the  fourth  Gospel  ?     If  he  was  in 
truth  the  incarnate  word  of  God,  this,   of  course, 
alters  the  case;   but  he   was   not   so  for  Schleier- 
macher, for  him  he  was  mere  man,  but  one  whose 
religious     and    moral    faculties     were    completely 
developed.      Will   such   an   one  dare  to   use  such 
tremendous   words  as :  *'I  and  the  Father  are  one  ; 
who  seeth   me   seeth   the   Father   also''  \    And   if 
he  does  use  them  shall  we  not  be  forced,  for  that 
very  reason,  to  question  his  own  religious  feeling  ? 
The  more  pious  the  man,  the  more  sedulously  will 
his    awe  observe  the   line  of   demarcation    which 
divides  him  from  that  which  he  esteems  as  divine. 
As  we  cannot  believe  Jesus  a  God,  we  should  lose  our 
faith  in  his  excellence  as  a  mail  if  we  were  forced  to 
believe  that  he  uttered  those  words,  and  we  should  lose 
our  faith  in  the  soundness  of  his  reason,  if  compelled 
to  seriously  believe  that  in  prayer  he  had  reminded 
God  of  the  glory  which  he  had    shared  with    him 
before  the  world  was.     And  moreover  we  should  be 
ashamed  now-a-days  to  make  use  of  the  perverting 
exegesis  by  means  of  which  Schleiermacher  strove 
to  make   utterances   of  such   a   nature   acceptable. 


Are  We  Still  Christians'^  57 

Happily  it  is  only  the  fourth  Evangelist  who  attri- 
butes such  phrases  to  Jesus,  and  he  derived  thein 
not  from  historic  information,  but  merely  from  the 
conception  which  in  harmony  with  a  philosophic 
scheme  of  his  own  he  had  formed  of  him  a  century 
later.  The  veritable  Christ  is  only  to  be  found,  if 
at  all,  in  the  first  three  Gospels.  There  we  have 
no  figure  tortured  into  accordance  with  Alexandrine 
speculation,  we  have  reminiscences  of  the  very  man, 
gathered  and  garnered  on  the  very  spot.  Not  that 
here  even  there  is  an  entire  absence  of  effort 
to  mould  these  after  a  particular  pattern.  For 
was  not  Jesus,  according  to  his  adherents,  the 
Messiah,  and  what  his  attributes,  and  destinies 
were,  had  long  been  known,  down  to  the  minutest 
detail,  by  the  devout  and  expectant  Jewish 
people.  It  was  of  course  self-evident  to  tlie 
faithful  that  everything  which  had  been  fore- 
told as  about  to  happen  to  and  by  the  Messiah, 
actually  had  happened  to  and  by  the  instrumen- 
tality of  the  Jesus  they  had  known.  These  things 
came  to  pass  that  it  might  be  fulfilled  as  it  is  written, 
is  the  invariable  comment  of  our  honest  Matthew, 
whenever  he  has  been  relating  something  that  never 
came  to  pass  at  all.  Thus,  for  example,  the  name 
of  Nazareth,  Christ's  native  town,  adhered  to  him 


58  TJie  Old  Faith  and  the  Akw, 

even  after  his  death  ;  but  according  to  a  passage  in 
Micah,  as  then  expounded,  the  Messiah,  like  to  his 
ancestor  David,  would  be  born  in  Bethlehem;  there- 
fore of  course  it  was  obligatory  that  he  should  be 
born  there,  not  in  Nazareth,  as  sure  as  he  was  the 
Messiah.      But,  in  order  to  be    convinced   that  we 
have  not  here  matter  of  actual    history,  but    only 
concoctions  with  especial  reference  to  the    expecta- 
tions entertained  respecting  the   Messiah,  we   need 
only  observe  how  diametrically  opposed  to  each  other 
are  the  manners  in  which  Matthew  and  Luke    set 
about  proving  tlie  fulfilment  of  the   prophecy,  the 
one  by  removing  Christ's    parents    after   his  birth 
from   Bethlehem    to   Nazareth,    the    other    by    re- 
moving them  before    his    birth   from   Nazareth   to 
Bethlehem.     No  less  obviously    manufactured,  and 
equally   betraying  their  character   by   the   discre- 
pancy of  their  statements,  are  the  two  genealogies 
which  are  designed  to  prove  that  the  supposed  son 
of  David  actually  was  a  descendant  of  his ;  while 
in  truth  all  they  prove  is,  that  at  the  time  they 
were  first  promulgated,  Christ  still  passed  for  the 
son  of  Joseph,  and  that  therefore  that  other  title  ot 
the  Messiah,  the  term  "  Son  of  God,"  had  not  yet 
come  to  be  applied  to  him  in  the  coarsely  literal 
sense.     But  the  Messiah  was  also  the  second  Moses 


Are  We  Still  Christians  1  59 

and  the  chief  of  the  prophets,  and  the  events  and 
actions  in  the  lives  of  the  lawgiver  and  of  the  fore- 
most prophets  must  necessarily  be  repeated  in  that 
of  the  Messiah  and  of  Jesus,  if  Messiah  indeed  were 
come.  As  Pliaraoh  had  sought  to  slay  the  infant 
Moses,  Herod  must  have  made  the  like  attempt  on 
the  infant  Christ ;  at  a  later  period  he  must  have 
been  tempted  like  Israel  in  the  wilderness,  only 
that  he  passed  the  examien  rigorosuni  more  credit- 
ably; then  again  he  must  be  transfigured  on  a 
mountain,  even  as  his  prototype  Moses  had  de- 
scended from  his  Mount  Sinai  with  shining  counte- 
nance. It  was  necessary  that  he  should  have  raised 
the  dead,  that  he  should  have  multiplied  insufficient 
food,  else  would  he  have  lagged  behind  Elijah 
and  Elisha.  His  whole  career  'had  to  be  one  un- 
broken chain  of  miracles  of  healing.  For  had  not 
Isaiah  spoken  in  his  prophecies  of  the  advent  of 
the  Messiah  as  a  time  when  the  eyes  of  the  blind, 
and  the  ears  of  the  deaf  should  be  opened,  when  the 
lame  should  leap,  and  the  tongue  of  the  dumb  utter 
rejoicings  ? 

21. 
A  large  portion  indeed  of  the  actions  and  fortunes 
of  Jesus,   as  narrated   by  the  Evangelists,  ueces- 


6o  The  Old  Faith  and  the  A'ew. 

sarily  vanishes  when  the  tissue  of  marvels  apper- 
taining to  his  supposed  Messianic  character  is  again 
disengaged  from  his  life  by  criticism ;  but  this  is  by 
no  means  all,  nor  even  half  of  that  against  which 
criticism  finds  reason  to  object.  Even  as  regards  the 
discourses  in  the  Gospels  grave  doubts  have  arisen. 
When  Bretschneider  first  discerned  Christ's  speeches 
in  tlie  fourth  Gospel  to  be  independent  compositions 
of  the  Evangelist  he  pointed  to  those  contained 
in  the  first  three  Gospels  as  samples  of  Christ's 
actual  mamier  of  expressing  himself.  So  firm  was 
the  prevalent  belief  in  their  authenticity gene- 
rally speaking,  and  as  compared  to  that  of  the 
fourth  Gospel,  not  without  cause.  Such  had  been 
the  style  of  teaching,  such  the  range  of  his  ideas, 
such  doubtless  at  times  also  the  very  words  of 
Christ. 

But  how  strange!  In  that  case  he  must  often 
have  glaringly  contradicted  himself.  When,  at  the 
beginning  of  his  career,  he  first  sent  his  apoptles 
forth,  he  is  stated  to  have  prohibited  them  from 
addressing  themselves  to  the  heathen  and  Samari- 
tans ;  at  a  later  period,  however,  while  on  his  way 
to  Jerusalem,  it  is  reported  of  him  that  he — as  in 
his  parable  of  the  good  Samaritan,  and  the  healing 
of  the  ten  lepers — had  contrasted  members  of  this 


Are  We  Still  Christiansi  6 1 

mongrel  race  with  his  compatriots,  to  the  disadvan- 
tage of  the  latter ;  then,  again,  ia  his  parables  of  the 
vineyard  and  of  the  roval  marriage  feast,  in  the  tem- 
ple at  Jerusalem,  he  had  predicted  the  rejection  of 
the  stubborn  Jews  and  the  election  of  the  Gentiles 
in  their  stead ;  and  lastly,  when,  after  his  alleged 
resurrection,  he  gave  the  disciples  his  parting  direc- 
tions, he  is  said  to  have  distinctly  bidden  them 
preach  the  gospel  to  all,  without  distinction  of  race. 
This,  of  course,  would  not  be  incredible,  for  in  the 
interval  which  must  have  elapsed  between  this  pro- 
hibition and  the  prediction  and  injunction  which 
came  later,  it  would  have  been  quite  possible  that  his 
horizon  should  have  become  enlarged  in  consequence 
of  a  wider  experience.  But  even  previous  to  the 
above-mentioned  prohibition,  Jesus  had  unhesitat- 
ingly aided  the  centurion  of  Capernaum,  a  Gentile, 
and  on  occasion  of  the  latter's  faith  had  foretold 
the  future  reception  of  the  Gentiles,  instead  of  the 
unbelieving  Jews,  into  the  Messiah's  kingdom ;  by 
the  above-mentioned  interdict,  therefore,  he  would 
have  prohibited  his  disciples  from  acting  as  he  him- 
self had  done,  and  from  preparing  the  way  to  the 
fulfilment  of  his  prophecy;  nay,  in  the  still  later 
case  of  the  Canaanitish  woman,  he  himself  would 
have   acted   in   a   spirit   entirely   adverse   to   that 


62  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New. 

manifested  towards  the  centurion,  and,  witli  the 
utmost  harslmess  of  Hebrew  exchisiveness,  would 
have  allowed  himself  only  to  he  softened  at  last  by 
the  humble  persistency  of  the  woman. 

This  is  more  than  we  can  make  allowance  for, 
and  is  not  sufficiently  explained  by  the  supposition 
that  the  arrangement  of  the  different  narratives  in 
the  first  three  Gospels  is  not  chronological.  For 
in  that  case  how  shall  we  obtain  any  informa- 
tion whatever  as  to  their  proper  chronological 
order  ?  But  we  are  seasonably  reminded  that  the 
period  in  which  our  first  three  Gospels  were  in 
process  of  formation  was  that  of  the  most  violent 
conflict  between  the  two  parties  into  which  the 
infant  Church  had  been  sundered  by  the  decided 
action  of  the  Apostle  Paul.  To  judge  by  their  pro- 
ceedings, as  disclosed  by  St.  Paul's  Epistle  to  the 
Galatians,  as  well  as  by  the  Apocalypse,  if  genuine, 
the  first  apostles  seem  only  to  have  conceived  of  the 
kingdom  of  their  crucified  Messiah  as  exclusively 
intended  for  the  posterity  of  Abraham,  or  for  such 
as  by  accepting  the  circumcision  and  the  law  should 
be  incorporated  with  the  chosen  people.  St.  Paul, 
on  the  contrary,  enunciated  the  principle,  and  made 
it  the  guide  of  his  apostolic  mission,  that  the  law 
had  been   superseded  by  Christ's    death,  and  that 


Are  We  Still  Christians  ?  63 

only  faith  (implying  baptism)  was  requisite  in  order 
to  gain  admission  into  liis  kingdom ;  that  the  Gen- 
tiles, therefore,  were  entitled  to  it  fully  as  much  as 
the  Jews. 

The  national  egotism  of  the  Jewish  proselytes 
to  the  new  sect  rebelled  all  the  more  passionately 
against  this  doctrine,  as  the  successes  of  St.  Paul 
amongst  the  Gentiles  increased,  and  as,  in  conse- 
quence, the  anticipated  share  in  the  glories  of  the 
Messiah's  day  (destined  only  for  the  true  sons  of 
Abraham)  seemed  in  danger  of  being  diminished  by 
the  numerous  interlopers.  The  dissensions  thence 
occasioned  were  carried  on  with  much  virulence  for 
a  considerable  time  after  the  death  of  the  Apostle 
Paul;  the  stubborn  Ilebrew-Ghristians  called  him 
the  malevolent,  the  lawless  one,  the  false  apostle,  es- 
pecially obnoxious  because  of  his  hostile  behaviour 
towards  Peter  at  Antioch ;  and  it  required  the  sheer 
force  of  flicts,  as  manifested  on  the  one  hand,  in  the 
destruction  of  the  Hebrew  state,  on  the  other, 
in  the  ever  wider  dissemination  of  Christianity 
among  the  Greeks  and  Pomans,  to  bring  about  a 
reconciliation  of  parties,  and  render  possible  a  peace- 
ful juxtaposition  of  the  two  apostles,  Peter  and 
Paul.  The  origin  and  attempted  pacification  of 
these  difierences  are  related  in  the  epistles  of  St.  Paul, 


64  TJie  Old  Faith  and  the  New, 

and  also  in  the  Acts,  but  in  the  spirit  of  conciliation, 
and  of  mitigation,  and  suppression. 

Now,  the  battle-field  of  these  conflicts,  as  they 
continued  to  exist  even  after  the  death  of  the  apostle 
of  the  Gentiles  and  the  destruction  of  the  Hebrew 
commonwealth,  lies  before  us  in  the  first  three 
Gospels.  We  observe  in  them  the  fluctuation  of  the 
strife,  discover  the  spots  where  halts  were  made, 
tents  pitched,  and  fortifications  erected ;  but  we  note 
at  the  same  time  how,  in  cases  of  retreat  or  advance, 
these  intrenchments  were  abandoned  and  new  ones 
cast  up  in  other  places  in  their  stead. 

22. 

Of  course  after  the  manner  in  which  relimous 
documents  were  produced  at  that  time,  or  indeed, 
at  any  time,  it  followed  naturally  that  what  was 
considered  as  truth  by  a  party  or  its  leader  must 
have  been  believed  to  be  the  doctrine  of  Jesus  him- 
self. If  we  were  still  in  possession  of  a  gospel  written 
from  a  severely  Hebrew-Christian  standpoint,  Christ's 
discourses  would  unquestionably  wear  a  very  difierent 
aspect.  But  such  a  gospel  we  no  longer  possess,  nor 
have  we  one  composed  entirely  from  the  point  of  view 
of  St.  Paul ;  for  in  every  one  of  the  first  Gospels 
(the  fourth  not  counting  as  an   historical  document) 


Are  We  Still  Christiaiisl  65 

the  two  standpoints  lie  over  and  across  each  other, 
like  the  strata  of  a  geological  formation.  In  St. 
Matthew  the  Hebrew-Christian  spirit  is  still  the 
most  apparent,  being  nevertheless  much  mitigated 
and  alloyed  by  philo-Gentile  elements;  while  in 
Luke,  on  the  contrary,  a  bias  towards  St.  Paul's 
views  is  unmistakable;  but,  as  if  to  preserve  the 
equilibrium,  he  has  also  inserted  pieces  of  a  pecu- 
liarly uncompromising  Judaical  character.  If  some- 
times, therefore,  we  read  in  documents  of  this  kind 
that  Jesus  forbade  his  disciples  to  preach  the  Gospel 
to  heathens  and  Samaritans,  because  (the  passage 
of  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount  refers  unquestionably 
to  the  same  subject)  this  was  giving  holy  things  to 
dogs  and  casting  pearls  before  swine ;  while,  on  the 
other  hand,  we  are  told  that  he  bade  them  bear 
the  glad  tidings  to  all  nations ;  we,  in  point  of  fact, 
only  learn  what,  at  different  times  and  in  different 
circles,  were  the  convictions  of  earliest  Christianity 
on  this  head;  while  the  standpoint  occupied  by 
Jesus  himself  remains  doubtful.  Thus,  in  the  nar- 
rative of  the  Canaanitish  woman  we  discern  the 
disposition  of  a  time  which,  although  it  could  no 
longer  prevent  the  admission  of  the  Gentiles,  had 
yet  given  way  with  the  utmost  reluctance ;  while 
that  of  the  Centurion  of  Capernaum  either  dates 
VOL.  I.  F  - 


66  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New, 

from  a  later  period,  or  proceeds  from  a  more  liberal 
circle,  by  which  Gentile  believers  were  made  wel- 
come without  demur.  It  is  possible  that  the  former 
passages  make  Jesus  appear  more  narrow-minded 
than  he  really  was,  but  it  is  also  possible  that  the 
latter  make  him  out  to  be  more  liberal-minded; 
and  when  we  consider  the  position  which  after  his 
death  his  foremost  apostles  occupied  in  relation  to 
St.  Paul's  undertaking,  we  shall  be  inclined  to  judge 
the  latter  hypothesis  the  more  probable. 

I  cannot  here  enter  on  a  closer  investigation ;  I 
have  only  wished  to  throw  out  a  hint  as  to  the  un- 
certainty of  everything  on  this  head,  how  we  cannot 
make  sure  of  the  sa3dngs  and  teachings  of  Christ 
on  any  one  point,  whether  we  really  have  his  own 
words  and  thoughts  before  us,  or  only  such  as  later 
times  found  it  convenient  to  ascribe  to  him. 

23. 

If  a  recent  delineator  of  Buddhism  finds  its  sio-ni- 
ficance  to  have  consisted  in  its  '^  havins^  found  a 
Brahminism  grown  decrepid  in  mythology  and  the- 
ology, scholasticism  and  speculation,  ceremonies  and 
outward  observances  of  every  sort,  meretricious  works 
and  hypocrisy,  sacerdotal  and  philosophical  pride ; 
and  opposed  it  by  placing  the  essence  of  sanctity  in 


Are   We  Still  Christians  f  Sj 

the  heart,  in  j)unt3^  of  life  and  conversation,  in  benev- 
olence, compassion,  pliilanthropy  and  nnbounded 
alacrity  of  self-sacrifice ;  and  its  having  consistently- 
appealed  from  wild,  dreary  traditions  and  priestly 
formulas,  oppressive  to  the  mind  and  heart,  from 
abstrnse  scholastic  sophistry,  and  high-flying  specvda- 
tion,  to  the  natural  feeling  and  the  common  sense  of 
mankind  as  the  liighest  tribunal  in  religious  mat- 
ters :  "  we  cannot  fail  to  recognize  the  similarity  of 
position  and  of  activity  between  the  Indian  sage  of 
the  times  of  Darius  and  Xerxes  and  the  Jewish  sage 
of  the  period  of  Augustus  and  Tiberius. 

The  Hindu*s  rigid  system  of  caste  had  now  for 
counterpart  the  invidious  line  of  demarcation  be- 
tween Jews,  Gentiles,  and  Samaritans;  not  to 
mention  later  proselytes  to  Christianity.  A  kind 
of  mythology  and  speculative  philosophy  had  been 
gradually  formed  among  the  Jews,  at  least,  among 
the  sect  of  the  Essenes,  whilst  a  species  of  subtle 
scholasticism  obtained  among  the  scribes  of  the 
other  two  sects.  Ecclesiastical  formulae,  cere- 
monial observances,  meritorious  works,  and  hypo- 
crisy were  equally  rampant  in  either  religion  ; 
and  in  both  instances  the  new  teacher  souo^ht  to 
convince  his  disciples  of  the  importance  of  substi- 


68  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New, 

tuting  an  inward  for  an  outward  life,  a  change  of 
lieartfor  mere  external  observances;  and  inculcated 
humility,  charity,  and  tolei'ance  instead  of  j)ride, 
self-seeking,  and  hatred.  The  way  of  life  traced 
out  by  Sakhyamuni  is  called  by  the  Buddhists 
simply  "the  way,"  precisely  the  same  expression 
as  that  applied  to  the  new  Messianic  faith  by  the 
Acts;  the  same  reason  held  good  in  both  cases, 
Buddhism  as  well  as  Christianity  being  originally 
more  practical  than  theoretic,  more  of  a  compen- 
dious doctrine  of  salvation  than  of  a  voluminous 
system  of  belief. 

It  would  appear  nevertheless  as  though  Sakhy- 
amuni had  effected  a  more  complete  rupture  with 
the  established  religion  of  Brahma  than  Jesus  with 
Mosaism.  The  former  not  only  abolished  the  Brah- 
minical  organization  of  caste  but  its  whole  body 
of  ritual  also,  with  its  sacrificial  observances  and 
penances,  nay,  its  very  heaven,  with  its  deities.  The 
raying  of  Buddha,  "My  law  is  a  law  of  mercy  for 
all,"  which  was  specially  addressed  by  him  against 
the  vile  system  of  caste,  has  at  the  same  time  a 
certain  Christian  savour,  only  that,  as  above  men- 
tioned, we  know  not  for  certain  whether  such  large- 
heartedness,  extending  beyond  the  limits  of  the 
chosen    people,   was   actually    reduced   to    practice 


Are  We  Still  Christians  ?  69 

by  Jesus,  or  only  in  the  first  instance  by  St.  Paul. 
That  other  saying  of  the  Indian  reformer  comes 
home  to  us  with  as  Christian  a  sound,  "  To  honour 
your  father  and  mother  is  better  than  to  serve  the 
gods  of  heaven  and  earth,"  a  saying  which  with 
him  however  had  a  still  more  extensive  signification. 
Becent  researches  on  Buddhism  have  established 
the  paradox  that  originally  it  was  a  religion  with- 
out a  god  or  gods,  that  its  founder,  in  fact,  was  an 
Atheist.  He  does  not  exactly  deny  the  existence 
of  gods,  but  he  simply  ignores  them,  thrusts  them 
aside,  as  in  the  utterance  we  have  quoted.  Jesus, 
on  the  other  hand,  not  only  imported  its  one  God 
from  the  religion  of  his  people  into  his  own,  but 
even  its  law. 

But  just  as  his  interpretation  of  the  law  was  more 
spiritual,  and  as  he  wished  to  see  it  purified  from  tra- 
ditional appendages,  so  also,  availing  himself  of  iso- 
lated expressions  in  the  Old  Testament,  he  trans- 
formed the  conception  of  God  from  that  of  a  stern 
master  to  that  of  a  loving  father,  and  thus  iml)ned 
the  religious  life  of  man  with  a  freedom  and  cheer- 
fulness before  unknown. 


24. 
Both  reformers  had  in  common,  however,  an  enthu- 


70  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New. 

siastic  world-renouncing  tendency,  although  its  root 
was  not  the  same  in  both.  Sakhyamuni  was  a 
Nihilist,  Jesus  a  Dualist.  The  first,  recognizing  in 
life  and  its  accompanying  sufiering  tlie  consequences 
of  appetites  and  the  love  of  existence,  endeavoured  by 
destroying  this  love  to  re-enter  the  Nirvana,  the 
painless  void ;  the  second  exhorted  his  disciples  to 
strive  above  all  things  after  the  kingdom  of  God, 
to  lay  up  imperishable  treasures  in  heaven  rather 
than  perishable  ones  on  earth;  he  pronounced  those 
happy  who  are  now  poor  and  heavy-laden,  because 
of  the  great  recompense  which  awaited  them  in 
heaven. 

Schopenhauer  has  called  Christianity  a  pessimist 
religion,  and  finds  in  its  avowal  of  the  utter  misery 
of  mankind  the  strength  which  enabled  it  to  over- 
come the  optimist  creed  of  Jew  and  Pagan.  But  this 
Pessimism,  the  rejection  of  that  which  it  designates 
as  "this  world,"  is  only  one  side  of  Christianity, 
and  without  its  other  side  as  a  complement,  that  of 
the  glory  of  the  heavenly  world  to  come,  which  it 
proclaimed  as  near  at  hand,  it  would  have  had  but 
inconsiderable  success.  As  Schopenhauer  declines 
the  latter  for  himself,  and  holds  fast  for  his  own 
part  by  the  Buddhist  Nirvana,  he  is  in  sympathy 
with  only  that  side  of  Christianity  which  it  has  in 


Are  We  Still  Christians?  71 

common  with  Buddhism,  which,  as  regards  the 
value  of  this  life,  may  also  be  called  pessimist.  In 
fact,  as  concerns  the  theory  of  human  life  and  the 
regulation  of  its  various  relations.  Christian  Dualism 
produces  essentially  the  same  consequences  as 
Buddhist  Nihilism.  No  incentive  to,  nor  any  object 
of,  human  activity  possesses  any  actual  value ;  all 
man's  endeavour  and  striving  in  pursuit  of  such  is 
not  ouly  mere  vanity,  but  actually  prejudicial  to 
the  attainment  of  his  true  destiny,  whether  this  be 
called  heaven  or  Nirvana.  The  surest  means  of 
attaining  to  the  goal  is  to  maintain  as  passive  a 
disposition  of  mind  as  possible,  saving  the  efforts 
required  to  soothe  the  sufferings  of  others,  or  to 
disseminate  the  redeemino^  doctrine,  the  teachinof  of 
Buddha  or  of  Christ. 

Pernicious  above  all  is  the  pursuit  affcer  worldly 
goods,  nay,  even  the  possession  of  such,  in  so  far  as 
one  is  not  willing  to  relinquish  them.  Tlie  rich 
man  in  Scripture  is  certain  to  go  to  hell,  on  the 
sole  ground,  so  far  as  appears,  of  his  faring  sump- 
tuously every  day.  Jesus  has  no  better  advice  to 
give  to  the  wealthy  youth  who  would  do  somethinc»* 
more  beyond  the  mere  fulfilling  of  the  ordinary 
commandments,  than  to  sell  everything  he  has  and 
give  it  to  the  poor.     Christianity  in  common  with 


7  2  TJie  Old  Faith  and  the  New, 

Buddhism  teaclies  a  thorough  cult  of  poverty  and 
mendicity.  The  mendicant  monks  of  the  middle 
ages,  as  well  as  the  still  flourishing  mendicancy  at 
Rome,  are  genuinely  Christian  institutions,  which 
have  only  been  restricted  in  Protestant  countries 
by  a  culture  proceeding  from  quite  another  source. 
''We  are  perpetually  reminded  of  the  evils  produced 
by  wealth  and  the  sinful  love  of  money,"  says 
Buckle,  "  and  yet  assuredly  no  other  passion,  except 
the  love  of  knowledge,  has  been  productive  of 
equal  benefit  to  mankind;  to  it  we  owe  all  com- 
merce and  industry;  industrial  undertakings  and 
trade  have  made  us  acquainted  with  the  produc- 
tions of  many  countries,  have  aroused  our  curiosity, 
enlarged  the  field  of  our  vision,  by  bringing  us  in 
contact  with  nations  of  various  ideas,  customs,  and 
languages,  accustomed  us  to  vast  undertakings,  to 
foresight  and  prudence,  taught  us  besides  many 
useful  technical  crafts,  and,  lastly,  endowed  us  with 
invaluable  means  for  the  preservation  of  life  and 
the  alleviation  of  suffering.  All  this  we  owe  to 
the  love  of  money.  Could  theology  succeed  in 
extirpating  it,  all  these  influences  would  cease,  and 
we  should  in  a  measure  relapse  into  barbarism.'' 
That  leisure  could  not  exist  without  wealth,  nor 
art  and   science  without    leisure,  has  been   shown 


Are  We  Still  Christians'^  73 

to    demonstration  by  Buckle   in    his    well-known 
work. 

It  does  not  therefore  follow  that  the  love  of 
acquisition  should  not,  like  every  other  impulse,  be 
kept  within  reasonable  bounds,  and  subordinated  to 
higher  aims,  but  in  the  teaching  of  Jesus  it  is 
ignored  from  the  very  first,  and  its  effectiveness  in 
promoting  culture  and  humanitarian  tendencies  is 
misunderstood,  Christianity  in  this  respect  mani- 
festing itself  as  a  principle  directly  antagonistic  to 
culture.  It  only  prolongs  its  existence  among  the 
enlightened  and  commercial  nations  of  our  time  by 
the  emendations  which  a  cultivated  but  profane 
reason  has  made  in  it,  and  yet  this  Reason,  so  mag- 
nanimous, or  perhaps  so  weak  and  hypocritical,  as  to 
impute  the  good  effects  not  to  itself  but  to  Christian- 
it}^,  to  whose  spirit  it  is  nevertheless  entirely  opposed. 

In  his  celebrated  letter  addressed  to  me  during 
the  last  war,  Ernest  Renan  remarked  with  perfect 
justice,  only  unfortunately  somewhat  too  late,  how 
neither  in  the  Beatitudes  of  the  Sermon  on  the 
Mount,  nor  anywhere  else  in  the  Gospel,  is  any 
promise  of  heaven  made  to  military  valour.  But 
neither  does  it  contain  a  w^ord  in  favour  of  pacific 
political  virtue,  of  patriotism  and  the  efficient  dis- 


74  The  Old  Faith  and  the  N'ew, 

charge  of  civic  obligations.  The  sentence,  "Give 
unto  Csesar  the  things  that  are  Csesar's/'  etc.,  is,  after 
all,  but  an  evasive  answer.  Nay,  even  in  regard  to 
the  virtues  of  private  and  family  life,  the  efficacy  of 
the  example  and  teaching  of  Jesus  is  diminished 
by  his  own  exemption  from  domestic  ties.  We 
possess  various  utterances  of  his  on  the  subject, 
depreciating  natural  bonds  in  comparison  with 
the  spiritual,  not  indeed  wholly  devoid  of  justice, 
yet  liable,  by  reason  of  their  abrupt  austerity,  to 
misconstruction.  We  learn,  besides,  that  while  he 
looked  upon  celibacy  as  the  higher  state  for  per- 
sons destined  to  hio-her  thino-s,  he  entertained 
rigorous  notions  as  to  the  indissolubility  of  mar- 
riage, and  also  that  he  was  a  lover  of  children. 

It  will,  however,  be  equitable  to  take  into  account 
the  then  state  of  the  people  to  which  Jesus  be- 
longed. It  may  be  said  to  have  resembled  the  pre- 
sent condition  of  Poland  under  Russia;  the  political 
independence  of  the  Jewish  nation  had  ceased  to 
exist,  the  Jews  were  incorporated  into  the  enor- 
mous empire  of  Rome,  they  could  no  longer  make 
war  publicly  on  their  own  account,  only  hatch 
conspiracies  and  raise  rebellions  which  could  but 
plunge  the  people,  as  had  already  been  sufficiently 
proved,   into    ever   deepening   misery.      Even   the 


Are  We  Still  Christians'^  75 

peaceful  vocations  of  the  citizen  had  only  the  very- 
narrowest  sphere  of  action  allowed  to  them  under 
the  administration  of  Roman  pro-consuls  and  the 
system  of  extortion  practised  by  Roman  tax- 
gatherers;  every  higher  aspiration  unavoidably 
turned  either  to  conspiracy  or  to  reform,  which, 
however,  being  debarred  from  every  practical  outlet, 
necessarily  assumed  a  character  of  fanaticism. 

Still  less,  under  such  circumstances,  was  there 
any  prospect  of  a  higher  culture,  a  refinement  of 
manners,  and  embellishment  of  life,  by  means  of 
science  and  art.     The  Jews,  in  the  first  place,  had 
less  natural  capacity  for  these,  not  only  than  the 
Greeks  and  Romans,  but  less  even  than  many  other 
oriental  nations ;  in  the  second  place,  the  nation  in 
Jesus'  time,  on  the  verge  of  its  political  dissolution, 
had,  especially  in  its  native  country,  declined  to  the 
lowest  point  of  prosperity  and  culture.     It  is  im- 
possible to  realize  to  the  full  the  squalor  and  penury 
■which  were  rife  at  that  time  in  the  villao-es  and 
small  towns  of  Galilee.    How  could  any  conception  of 
art  or  science,  or  any  impulse  toward  them,  spring 
from  such  a  source?  As  it  was  believed  that  the  truth 
conld  only  be  found  in  Scripture,  in  the  sacred  books 
of  Moses  and  the  prophets,  science  was  entirely  made 
to  consist  in  a  specially  pitiful  and  arbitrary  art  of 


76  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New. 

interpretation,  of  which  we  possess  but  too  many 
samples  in  the  New  Testament.  In  a  word,  the 
world  and  existence  therein  had  grown  to  be  so 
unbearable  to  the  oppressed  and  degenerate  race 
which  then  dragged  on  its  days  by  the  banks  of 
the  Jordan  and  the  Sea  of  Tiberias,  that  precisely 
the  noblest  and  the  loftiest  spirits  among  them 
v/ould  have  nothing  more  to  do  with  it,  did  not  con- 
sider it  worth  the  pains  of  trying  to  improve  it, 
but  preferred  to  abandon  it  to  the  prince  of  this 
world,  the  devil,  while,  with  the  concentrated 
powers  of  longing  and  imagination,  they  themselves 
turned  towards  the  deliverance  which,  accordinor 
to  ancient  prophecies  and  more  modern  glosses,  was 
presently  to  come  from  above. 

25. 

The  only  thing  needful  was  to  hasten  its  advent. 
But  the  people,  so  it  seemed,  must,  ere  it  came,  be 
worthy  of  it.  John,  therefore,  preached  repentance, 
because  the  kingdom  of  heaven  was  at  hand,  and 
administered  the  regenerating  rite  of  baptism  to 
those  who  acknowledged  their  sins.  If  reliance  is 
to  be  placed  on  the  accounts  in  the  Gospel,  he  did  not 
proclaim  himself  as  being  the  bearer  of  this  deliver- 
ance, the  Messiah.     This  was  first  done  by  Jesus. 


Are  We  Still  Christians?  77 

But  how  did  Jesus,  propose  to  bring  this  deliver- 
ance ?  At  first,  he  followed  in  the  footprints  of  the 
Baptist,  and  likewise  preached  repentance  in  view 
of  the  approaching  kingdom  of  heaven.  But  what 
next?  When  at  his  passover  he  rode  into  Jerusalem 
he  willingly  suffered  himself  to  be  greeted  by  the 
people  as  the  Son  of  David,  the  expected  Messianic 
King.  It  has  been  hence  inferred  that  he  expected 
a  cowp  de  "main  on  the  part  of  his  adherents,  a 
popular  insurrection  which  should  place  him  at  the 
head  of  the  Jewish  commonwealth.  But  then,  did 
not  he  ride  intentionally  into  Jerusalem  seated  on 
a  peaceable  beast  ?  and  had  he  taken  the  slightest 
pains  to  prepare  any  violent  uprising?  When 
subsequently,  at  his  imprisonment,  one  of  his  dis- 
ciples unsheathed  his  sword,  he  not  only  declared 
himself  opposed  on  principle  to  the  use  of  the 
sword,  but  assured  him  that  even  now  he  need  only 
express  the  wish,  and  God  his  father  would  send 
more  than  twelve  legions  of  angels  to  his  assistance, 

Jesus  may  or  may  not  have  uttered  these  words 
at  that  moment;  in  my  judgment  they  accurately 
convey  the  essential  foundation  of  his  ideas.  The 
actual  advent  of  the  heavenly  kingdom  was  to  be 
effected  not  in  any  way  by  a  political,  or  in  fact 
natural,  but   by  a   supernatural  machinery.    But 


78  The  Old  Faith  a7id  the  New, 

neither  was  this  to  be  of  a  purely  moral  nature — 
the  moral  part  always  remaining  merely  prepara- 
tory— but  it  was  rather  of  a  transcendent,  or  one 
might  say  magical,  character. 

Jesus  having  given  an  affirmative  answer  to  the 
question  of  the  high  priest  as  to  whether  he  were 
the  Messiah,  had  added  that  he  would  forthwith  be 
seen  sitting  at  the  right  hand  of  the  heavenly  Power, 
and  descending  in  the  clouds  of  heaven.  At  that 
time,  when,  a  captive  under  heavy  accusations,  he 
foresaw  his  execution,  this  might  signify  that,  resus- 
citated by  God  after  his  death,  he  should  return  in 
that  Messianic  character  indicated  by  Daniel ;  but 
had  it  pleased  God  to  send  him  his  legions  of 
angels,  death  might  have  been  spared  him,  the 
heavenly  hosts  might  (as  was  afterwards  expected  in 
reo'ard  to  the  Christians  survivino-  at  the  resurrec- 
tion)  have  boi-ne  him  up  to  the  clouds  with  a  sudden 
transfiguration  of  his  earthly  frame,  and  there 
have  seated  him  on  his  Messianic  throne.  The 
Gospels,  of  course,  represent  the  case  entirely  as  if 
Jesus,  with  supernatural  foresight,  had  always  been 
cognizant  of  his  violent  death ;  with  us  it  can  only 
be  a  question  as  to  whether  he  was  more  or  less 
taken  by  surprise  at  the  unfortunate  catastrophe  of 
his   mission,  and  at  what  period  of  his  career  he 


Are  IVe  Still  Christians  ?  79 

applied  himself  to   the  task  of  reconstructing  his 
hopes  in  the  anticipated  prodigies. 

26. 

After  he — to  the  surprise  of  his  disciples,  at  all 
events — had  expired  on  the  cross  as  a  condemned 
malefactor,  the  whole  issue  now  hung  upon  these 
disciples'  strength  of  soul.  If  they  allowed  their 
belief  in  him  as  the  Messiah  to  be  shaken  by  his 
violent  death  amid  the  wreck  of  his  undertaking, 
his  cause  was  lost ;  then,  al  though  the  memory  of 
him  and  of  many  of  his  pregnant  sayings  might 
possibly  be  preserved  for  awhile  in  Judaea,  yet  its 
impression  must  soon  be  effaced,  like  the  circles  on 
the  surface  of  a  pool  into  which  some  one  has  cast 
a  stone.  But  if,  in  defiance  of  his  unhappy  end, 
they  would  hold  fast  by  the  belief  in  him  as  the 
Messiah,  then  it  behoved  them  to  solve  the  contra- 
diction which  seemed  to  exist  between  the  two ;  it 
behoved  them  especially  to  knit  together  his 
natural  existence,  thus  violently  interrupted,  with 
the  supernatural  part  which,  according  to  his 
repeated  prediction,  he  would  at  no  distant  date 
perform,  as  the  Son  of  man  appearing  in  the  clouds 
of  heaven.  According  to  man's  common  lot,  he, 
since  his  death  on  the  cross,  had  devolved  to  the 


8o  The  Old  Faith  and  the  Nczv, 

realm  of  shades;  but  once  identified  with  them 
the  thread  was  snapped,  his  part  ph\jed  out ;  no 
faith,  no  hope  could  henceforth  be  founded  upon  him. 
This,  then,  was  the  point  which  required  to  be  made 
secure:  he  must  not  have  died,  or  rather,  as  the 
whole  country-side  knew  him  to  be  dead,  he  must 
not  ha.ve  continued  so;  recourse  was  had  to  Scrip- 
ture— a  great  gain  to  begin  with.  For  with  the 
facility  of  the  time  in  exegesis,  everything  that 
might  be  desirable  could  with  certainty  be  found 
there.  The  author  of  the  sixteenth  Psalm,  whether 
David  or  another,  had,  as  may  be  imagined,  not 
dreamt  of  speaking  in  the  name  of  the  Messiah,  but 
merely  given  vent  to  his  owm  joyful  trust  in  God ; 
and  if  he  expressed  this  by  saying  that  God  would 
not  leave  his  soul  in  hell,  nor  suffer  his  holy  one 
to  see  corruption,  he  only  meant  that  with  God's 
help  he  would  emerge  happily  from  every  trial  and 
danger.  "  But  David,"  argued  a  disciple  of  Jesus, 
seeking  to  prop  his  vacillating  faith,  "  David  is  dead 
and  mouldered  to  dust;  consequently  he  cannot  in 
this  passage  have  spoken  of  himself,  but  rather  he 
spoke  prophetically  of  his  great  scion,  the  Messiah — 
and  this  of  course  was  Jesus — who,  accordingly, 
cannot  have  remained  in  the  grave,  camiot  have 
succumbed  to  the  nether  powers."     In  the  Acts  St. 


Are  We  Still  Christians?  8i 

Peter  certainly  only  recites  this  model  interpreta- 
tion on  tlie  day  of  Pentecost,  after  the  resurrection 
of  Jesus ;  but  we  see  here,  on  the  contrary,  one  of  the 
processes  of  thought  by  which  the  disciples  gradually 
wrought  themselves  up  to  the  production  of  the 
idea  of  the  resuscitation  of  their  martyred  Lord. 
The  passage  in  Isaiah  about  the  lamb  which  is  led 
to  the  shambles  produced  a  similar  effect,  and 
Philip  the  Evangelist  is  said  to  have  interpreted 
it  to  the  Ethiopian  eunuch  as  referring  to  Christ ; 
and  if  we  read  that  at  the  time  of  the  resurrection, 
Christ,  appearing  to  his  disciples  journeying  to 
Emmaus,  had  explained  to  them  all  the  passages 
referring  to  himself,  i.e.,  to  his  death  and  resurrec- 
tion, this,  taken  historically,  can  only  mean  that  it 
was  chiefly  from  Scripture  that  the  disciples  suc- 
ceeded in  extracting  comfort  and  hope  in  those 
days  of  sorrow. 

Consternation  at  the  execution  of  their  master 
had  scared  them  far  from  the  dangerous  metropolis, 
to  their  native  Galibe;  here  they  may  have  held 
secret  meetings  in  honour  of  his  memory,  they  may 
have  found  strength  in  their  faith  in  him,  have 
searched  Scripture  through  and  through,  and  strained 
every  nerve  to  reach  unto  light  and  certainty; 
these   were    spiritual   conflicts   which,  in  Oriental 

VOL.  I.  G 


82  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New. 

and  especially  female  natures  of  an  unbalanced 
religious  and  fantastical  development,  easily  turned 
into  ecstasies  and  visions.  As  soon  as  it  seemed 
once  patent  that  he  could  not  have  remained  in 
the  grave,  being  the  Messiah,  the  step  was  not 
great  to  the  tidings — we  have  seen  him  who  hath 
risen  from  the  dead,  he  hath  met  us,  spoken  with 
us ;  we  did  not  know  him  at  first,  but  afterwards, 
when  he  had  departed,  the  scales  fell  from  our  eyes, 
we  saw  that  it  could  have  been  none  other  than 
he,  etc.  And  in  successive  narratives  the  mani- 
festations grew  even  more  palpable :  he  had  eaten 
with  the  disciples,  had  shown  them  his  hands  and 
feet,  and  bidden  them  place  their  fingers  in  his 
wounds. 

Thus  the  disciples,  by  elaborating  the  conception 
of  the  resurrection  of  their  slain  master,  had  rescued 
his  work  ;  and,  moreover,  it  was  their  honest  con- 
viction that  they  had  actually  beheld  and  conversed 
with  the  risen  Lord.  It  was  no  case  of  pious  decep- 
tion, but  all  the  more  of  self-deception ;  embellish- 
ment and  legend,  of  course,  although  possibly  still 
in  good  faith,  soon  became  intermingled  with  it. 

But  looking  at  it  historically,  as  an  outward 
event,  the  resurrection  of  Jesus  had  not  the  very 
slightest  foundation.     Rarely  has  an  incredible  fact , 


Are  We  Still  Christians'^  83 

been  worse   attested,  or   one   so   ill-attested   been 
more  incredible  in  itself.     In  my  "  Life  of  Jesus  "  I 
have  devoted  a  full  investigation  to  this  subject, 
which  I  will  not  repeat   here.     But  the  result  I 
consider  it  my  duty  as  well  as  my  right  to  express 
here  without  any  reserve.     Taken  historically,  i.e.^ 
comparing  the  immense  efi'ect  of  this  belief  with  its 
absolute  baselessness,  the  story  of  the  resurrection 
of  Jesus  can  only  be  called  a  world-wide  deception. 
It  may  be  humiliatiug  to  human  pride,  but  never- 
theless the  fact  remains:   Jesus   might  still   have 
taught  and  embodied  in  his  life  all  that   is  true 
and  good,  as  well  as  what  is  one-sided  and  harsh — 
the  latter  after  all  always  producing  the  strongest 
impression  on  the  masses;  nevertheless,  his  teach- 
ings would  have  been  blown  away  and  scattered 
like  solitary  leaves  by  the  wind,  had  these  leaves 
not  been  held  together  and  thus  preserved,  as  if 
with  a  stout  tangible  binding,  by  an  illusory  belief 
in  his  resurrection. 

27. 

Jesus  is  not  to  be  held  to  account  for  this  belief  in 

his  resurrection  except  indirectly  and  for  a  reason 

very  honorable  to  him,  viz.,  that  the  very  fact  of  its 

existence  proves  what  a  strong  and  lasting  impression 


84  The  Old  Faith  and  the  Nezu. 

lie  must  have  made  on  liis  disciples.  This  impres- 
sion, certainly  arose  not  only  from  what  was 
rational  and  moral  in  his  genius  and  ideas,  but  in 
at  least  as  «rreat  a  des^ree  from  that  which  was 
irrational  and  fantastic.  A  Socrates,  with  his 
purely  reasonable  method  of  teaching,  would  not 
have  fascinated  the  Galilean  mind  at  that  time; 
neither  would  Jesus  have  been  able  to  eifect  this 
by  merely  preaching  purity  of  heart,  love  of  God 
and  your  neighbour,  and  by  declaring  the  poor  and 
oppressed  as  destined  to  blessedness;  or  rather  he 
could  not  have  declared  them  blessed  if  he  had  not 
been  able  to  promise  them  an  indemnification  in 
the  kingdom  of  God,  in  which  he  himself  expected 
ere  long  to  commence  his  reign  as  Messiah.  The 
expectation  of  this  terrestrial  heaven — which  we 
must  not  imagine  as  representing  the  present 
idealized  conception  of  a  future  world,  but  i-ather  the 
sensuous  descriptions  in  the  Kevelation  of  St.  John 
— had  already,  during  Christ's  lifetime,  exercised 
the  utmost  influence ;  and  the  belief  produced  in 
his  resurrection  was  chiefly  valuable  as  rehabilita- 
ting an  expectation  shaken  by  his  death. 

But  with  Jesus  himself  this  conception  forms 
the  basis  upon  which  the  general  system  of  his 
ideas  and  precepts  rests,  and    the  point  to  which 


Are   We  Still  Christians  ?   ■  85 

everything  else  refers.  The  rejection  of  the  world 
and  all  material  interests  has  only  a  meaning  as 
implying  the  reverse  proposition — that  the  true 
interests,  the  abiding  satisfaction,  may  only  be 
found  in  the  approaching  kingdom  of  heaven. 
Jesus  himself,  it  was  alleged,  had  described  the 
prospect  of  his  arrival  or  return  at  the  head  of  this 
kingdom  as  so  nigh,  that  a  portion  of  those  who 
listened  to  him  should  live  to  see  it;  and  the 
Apostle  Paul  tells  us  expressly  that  he  himself  still 
hoped  to  witness  it. 

Christianity,  as  we  know,  has  during  the  last 
eighteen  centuries  found  itself  perpetually  deceived 
in  this  expectation,  and  has  therefore  hit  upon  the 
expedient  of  putting  a  gloss  upon  Christ's  words, 
postponing  his  return  to  some  incalculable  distance 
of  time,  and  in  compensation  antedating  each  per- 
son's entrance  into  heaven  or  hell  as  an  event  to 
occur  immediately  upon  the  close  of  his  earthly 
existence. 

Not  only  has  the  first  expectation,  however,  after 
a  gradual  decay,  at  present  become  virtually  extinct, 
but  the  other  also — the  hope  of  a  future  recompense 
— has  been  shaken  to  its  foundations.  And  why? 
Of  the  cause  anon ;  at  present,  I  only  claim  the 
concession  of  the  fact. 


86  ^he  Old  Faith  and  the  Aew, 

If  we  open  our  eyes,  and  are  honest  enough  to 
avow  what  they  show   us,  we  must  acknowledge 
that  the  entire  activity  and  aspiration  of  the  civi- 
lized nations  of  our  time  is  based  on  views  of  life 
which  run  directly  counter  to  those  entertained  by 
Christ.     The  ratio  of  value  between  the  here  and 
the  hereafter  is  exactly  reversed.     And  this  is  by 
no  means  the  result  of  the  merely  luxurious  and  so- 
called  materialistic  tendencies  of  our  age,  nor  even 
of  its  marvellous  progress  in  technical  and  industrial 
improvements ;  but  it  is  equally  due  to  its  discoveries 
in  science,  its  astronomy,  chemistry  and  physiology, 
as  well  as  its  political  aims  and  national  combinations, 
nay,  even  its  productions  in  poetry  and  the  sister  arts. 
All  that  is  best  and  happiest  which  has  been  achieved 
by  us  has  been  attainable  only  on  the  basis  of  a  con- 
ception which  regarded  this  present  world  as  by  no 
means  despicable,  but  rather  as  man's  proper  field  of 
labour,  as  the  sum   total  of  the  aims  to  which  his 
efibrts  should  be  directed.    If  from  the  force  of  habit, 
a  certain  proportion  of  workers  in  this  field  still  carry 
the  belief  in  an  hereafter  along  with  them,  it  is  nev- 
ertheless a  mere  shadow  which  attends  their  footsteps, 
without    exercising    any   determining  influence   on 
their  actions. 


Are  We  Still  Christians?  87 

28. 

Let  us  now  bethink  ourselves  what  it  was  that 
we  really  set  out  to  discover.  We  had  quite  given 
up  the  ecclesiastical  conception  of  Jesus  as  the 
Saviour  and  Son  of  God,  and  had  found  Schleier- 
macher's  "  God  in  Christ "  to  be  a  mere  phrase.  But 
we  asked  whether  as  an  historical  personage  he 
might  not  have  been  one  on  whom  our  religious  life 
still  continues  to  be  dependent  on  whom  more  than 
to  any  other  great  man  it  must  look  for  moral  per- 
fection. This  question  we  are  now  in  a  position  to 
answer. 

To  begin  with,  we  shall  be  obliged  to  state  that  our 
authentic  information  respecting  Jesus  is  far  too 
scanty  for  this  purpose.  The  evangelists  have  over- 
laid the  picture  of  his  life  with  so  thick  a  coat  of 
supernatural  colouring,  have  confused  it  by  so  many 
cross  lights  of  contradictory  doctrine,  that  the  natural 
colours  cannot  now  be  restored.  If  one  ma}?"  not  with 
impunity  walk  among  palms,  still  less  so  among 
gods.  He  who  has  once  been  deified  has  irretrievably 
lost  his  manhood.  It  is  an  idle  notion  that  by  any 
kind  of  operation  we  could  restore  a  natural  and 
harmonious  picture  of  a  life  and  a  human  being  from 
sources  of  information  which,  like  the  Gospels,  have 


88  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New, 

been  adapted  to  suit  a  supernatural  being,  and  dis- 
torted, moreover,  by  parties  whose  conceptions  and 
interests  conflicted  with  each  other's.  To  check 
these,  we  ought  to  possess  information  concerning 
the  same  life,  compiled  from  a  purely  natural  and 
common-sense  point  of  view;  and  in  this  case  we 
are  not  in  possession  of  such.  However  grandilo- 
quently the  most  recent  delineators  of  the  life  of  Jesus 
may  have  come  forward,  and  pretended  to  be  enabled 
by  our  actual  sources  of  information  to  depict  a  hu- 
man development,  a  natural  germination  and  growth 
of  insight,  a  gradual  exj)ansion  of  Jesus'  horizon ; 
their  essays  have  been  shown  to  be  apologetic  artifices, 
devoid  of  all  historical  value,  from  the  absence  of  all 
proof  in  the  record  (with  the  exception  of  that  vague 
phrase  in  Luke's  history  of  the  Infancy)  and  by  the 
necessity  of  most  gratuitously  transposing  the  various 
accounts. 

But  not  only  does  the  manner  of  Jesus'  develop- 
ment remain  enveloped  in  impenetrable  obscurity; 
it  is  by  no  means  very  apparent  into  what  he 
developed,  and  ultimately  became.  To  mention 
only  one  more  fact,  after  all  we  have  said ;  we  can- 
not even  be  certain  whether  at  the  last  he  did  not 
lose  his  faith  in  himself  and  his  mission.     If   he 


Are  We  Still  Christians'^  8q 

spoke  the  famous  words  on  tlie  cross,  "  My  God, 
my  God,  why  hast  thou  forsaken  me?"  then  he 
did.  It  is  possible,  and  I  myself  have  pointed  out 
the  possibility,  of  the  exclamation  only  being  attri- 
buted to  him  in  order  that  a  psalm,  considered  by 
the  earliest  Christianity  as  the  programme  of  the 
Messianic  agony,  might  at  its  very  commencement 
be  applicable  to  him;  but  it  certainly  is  equally 
probable  that  he  may  really  have  uttered  the  signi- 
ficant words.  If  he  rose  afterwards,  i.e.,  if  he  was 
the  incarnate  suffering  deity,  then  it  is  nowise 
prejudicial  to  him ;  then  it  only  marks  the  lowest 
degree  of  this  agony,  is  the  cry  of  anguish  wrung 
from  weak  mortality,  which  is  compensated  for  by 
the  strength  of  his  divine  nature  as  immediately 
manifested  in  his  resuscitation.  If,  however,  he  is 
regarded  as  purely  a  human  hero,  the  words,  if  he 
uttered  them,  give  rise  to  grave  misgivings.  If  so, 
then  he  had  not  calculated  upon  his  death,  then  he 
had  to  the  very  end  nursed  the  iUusipn  respecting 
the  angelic  hosts,  and  at  last,  as  still  they  came  not, 
as  they  suffered  him  to  hang  languishing  to  death 
on  the  cross  and  to  perish,  then  he  had  died  with 
blasted  hope  and  broken  heart.  And  however  much, 
even  then,  we  should  commiserate  him  on  account 
of  the  excellence  of  his  heart  and  his  aspirations, 


go  The  Old  Faith  and  the  N'ew. 

however  much  we  might  dejDrecate  the  punishment 
awarded  him  as  cruel  and  unjust,  nevertheless  we 
could  not  fail  to  acknowledge  that  so  enthusiastic 
an  expectation  but  receives  its  deserts  when  it  is 
mocked  by  miscarriage. 

As  we  have  said,  nothing  is  firmly  established,  save 
the  objection  that  so  many  and  such  essential  facts 
in  the  life  of  Jesus  are  not  firmly  established  that  we 
neither  are  clearly  cognizant  of  his  aims,  nor  the  mode 
and  degree  in  which  he  hoped  for  their  realization. 
Perhaps  these  things  may  be  ascertained ;  but  the 
necessity  of  first  ascertaining  them,  and  the  prospect 
of  at  best  only  attaining  probability  as  the  result  of 
far-reaching  critical  investigations,  instead  of  the  in- 
tuitive assurance  of  faith,  gives  a  rather  discouraging 
aspect  to  the  matter.  Above  all,  I  must  have  a  dis- 
tinct, definite  conception  of  him  in  whom  I  am  to  be- 
liev^e,  whom  I  am  to  imitate  as  an  exemplar  of  moral 
excellence.  A  being  of  which  I  can  only  catch  fitful 
glimpses,  which  remains  obscure  to  me  in  essential  re- 
spects, may,  it  is  true,  interest  me  as  a  problem  for  sci- 
entific investigation,  but  it  must  remain  inefiectual  as 
regards  practical  influence  on  my  life.  But  a  being 
with  distinct  features,  capable  of  aflTording  a  definite 
conception,  is  only  to  be  found  in  the  Christ  of  faith, 
of  legend,  and  there,  of  course,  only  by  the  votary 


Are  We  Si  ill  Christians^  91 

wlio  is  willing  to  take  into  the  bargain  all  the  im- 
possibilities, all  the  contradictions  contained  in  the 
picture  :  the  Jesus  of  history,  of  science,  is  only  a 
problem;  but  a  problem  cannot  be  an  object  of  wor- 
ship, or  a  pattern  by  which  to  shape  our  lives. 

20. 

And  among  the  things  which,  comparatively 
speaking,  we  still  know  most  positively  of  Jesus, 
there  is  unfortunately  something  which  we  must 
mention  as  the  second  and  decisive  reason  why,  if 
science  is  to  assert  her  rights  in  his  case,  he,  as  the 
religious  leader,  must  come  to  be  daily  more  and 
more  estranged  from  mankind,  as  mankind  has 
developed  under  the  influence  of  the  civilizing 
momenta  of  modern  times. 

Whether  he  designed  his  kingdom  for  Jews,  or 
Gentiles  as  well ;  whether  he  attached  much  or  little 
importance  to  the  Mosaic  law  and  the  services  of  the 
Temple  ;  whether  he  assigned  to  himself  and  his  dis- 
ciples a  greater  or  less  amount  of  actual  authority; 
wliether  he  foresaw  his  death,  or  was  surprised  by 
it :  either  there  is  no  historical  basis  to  be  found 
anywhere  in  the  Gospels,  or  Jesus  expected  promptly 
to  reappear  enthroned  on  the  clouds  of  heaven,  in 
order  to  inaugurate  the  kingdom  of  the  Messiah  as 


92  TJie  Old  Faith  and  the  New. 

foretold  by  him.  Xow,  if  he  was  the  Son  of  God,  or 
otherwise  a  being  of  supernatural  dignity,  all  we 
have  to  say  is  that  the  event  did  not  occur, 
and  that  therefore  he  who  predicted  it  could 
not  have  been  a  divinity.  But  if  he  was  not  such — 
if  he  was  a  mere  man,  and  yet  nourished  such  an 
expectation — then  there  is  no  help  for  it :  according 
to  our  conceptions  he  was  an  enthusiast.  The  word 
has  long  since  ceased  to  be  a  term  of  opprobrium 
and  obloquy,  as  it  was  in  the  last  century.  We  know 
there  have  been  noble  enthusiasts — enthusiasts  of 
genius;  the  influence  of  an  enthusiast  can  rouse, 
exalt,  and  occasion  prolonged  historic  effects;  but 
we  shall  not  be  desirous  to  choose  him  as  the  guide 
of  our  life.  He  will  be  sure  to  mislead  us,  if  we  do 
not  subject  his  influence  to  the  control  of  our  reason. 
But  this  latter  precaution  was  neglected  by  Chris- 
tendom during  the  Middle  Ages.  Not  only  did  it 
suffer  itself  to  be  seduced  by  Christ's  utter  disdain 
for  the  world  ;  it  even  outdid  him.  He  at  least  con- 
tinued to  abide  in  the  world,  were  it  only  to  convince 
men  of  its  worthlessness ;  if  hermits  and  monks  at 
a  later  period  shunned  all  intercourse  with  it,  they 
indeed  outstripped  him,  but  only  on  the  path  along 
which  he  led  them  himself  As  concerned  renuncia- 
tion of  worldly  goods,  indeed,  they  were  at  no  loss  for 


Are  We  SHU  Christians  ?  93 

a  subterfuge :  tTie  individual,  it  was  true,  could  own 
nothing,  but  the  community,  the  monastery,  the 
church,  and  its  heads,  so  much  the  more.  Thus,  too, 
the  precept  of  turning  the  other  cheek  to  the  smiter 
has  always  found  its  corrective  in  the  sound  com- 
mon sense  of  mankind ;  some  personages  of  especial 
sanctity  excepted,  the  pious  Middle  Ages  were  as 
contentious  and  bellicose  as  any  other  era  in  the 
history  of  the  world.  Its  sturdy  goodmen  and  house- 
wives, moreover,  took  good  thought  for  the  morrow, 
in  spite  of  the  precept  of  their  Saviour;  but  the  per- 
formance of  their  worldly  duties  weighed  on  the  con- 
science of  these  excellent  people ;  at  least,  made  them 
appear  low  and  common  in  their  own  eyes.  For  had 
not  Jesus  told  the  wealthy  youth,  that  if  he  would 
be  perfect  he  must  sell  all  his  possessions  and  give  the 
price  to  the  poor  ?  and  at  another  time  he  had  like- 
wise said  that  all,  indeed,  could  not  receive  this 
saying,  but  that  there  were  those  who  had  made 
themselves  eanuchs  for  the  sake  of  God's  kingdom. 

The  Reformation  first  went  to  work  on  a  system- 
atic principle,  in  order  to  place  this  ascetic,  fanatical 
side  of  Christianity  under  the  due  control  of  reason. 
Luther's  dicta  concerning  the  value  of  the  perform- 
ance of  duty  in  all  the  relations  of  life,  whether 
matrimonial,  domestic,  or  civil — on  the  useful  activity 


94  The  Old  Faith  and  the  Ahw, 

of  housewives,  mothers,  maid  or  man-servants,  as 
compared  with  the  profitless  macerations,  senp^less 
babble,  and  drone-like  laziness  of  monks  and  nuns, 
are  inspired  by  a  thoroughly  healthy  humanity. 
But  this  was  supposed  to  militate  against  the  de- 
generacy of  the  Catholic  Church,  not  against  Cliris- 
tianity  itself  The  earth  continued  a  vale  of  tears  ; 
man's  gaze  was  still  to  remain  fixed  on  the  celestial 
glories  to  come.  "If  heaven  is  our  home,"  asked 
Calvin,  "  what  is  the  earth  but  a  place  of  exile  ? 
Only  because  God  has  placed  us  in  this  world,  and 
appointed  us  our  functions  therein,  must  it  also 
be  our  endeavour  to  fulfil  the  same  ;  it  is  solely  the 
divine  commandment  which  imparts  a  true  value 
to  our  earthly  vocations,  which  are  in  themselves 
devoid  of  such."  This  is  clearly  a  miserable  com- 
promise :  if  our  earthly  occupations  are  valueless  in 
themselves,  this  value  cannot  be  imparted  to  them 
from  without ;  but  if  they  do  possess  such  value,  it 
can  consist  in  nothing  but  the  moral  relations  which 
are  implied  by  them.  Man's  earthly  existence  bears 
its  own  law,  its  rule  of  guidance,  its  aims  and  ends 
included  in  itself. 


Are  We  Still  Christians  ?  95 

80. 

But,  we  are  told,  he  whom  you  call  an  enthusiast 
was  at  the  same  time  he  who,  not  to  mention  many 
other  moral  precepts  of  the  highest  value,  first  im- 
planted in  mankind,  both  by  precept  and  example, 
the  principles  of  charity,  of  compassion, — nay,  of  the 
love  of  foes,  and  fraternal  feelings  for  all  men  ;  and 
even  he  who  should  only  profess  these  principles 
professes  thereby  his  belief  in  Christ  and  in  Chris- 
tianity. They  certainly  remain  its  fairest  attribute, 
we  reply,  and  are  the  highest  glory  of  its  founder; 
but  they  neither  exclusively  appertain  to  him,  nor 
are  they  annulled  without  him. 

Five  centuries  before  the  Christian  era  Buddhism 
had  already  inculcated  gentleness  and  compassion, 
not  only  towards  men,  but  towards  all  living 
creatures.  Among  the  Jews  themselves,  the  Rabbi 
Hillel  had  already  taught,  a  generation  before 
Christ,  that  the  commandment  of  loving  one's  neigh- 
bour as  one's  self  constituted  the  very  essence  of 
the  law.  To  assist  even  our  enemies  was  a  maxim  of 
the  Stoics  in  Jesus'  time.  And  but  one  generation 
later,  although  without  doubt  independently  of  him, 
and  strictly  in  keeping  with  the  principles  of  the 
Stoic  school,  Epictetus  called  all  men  brothers,  inas- 


96  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New, 

much  as  all  were  the  children  of  God.  The  re- 
cognition of  this  truth  is  so  obviously  involved  in 
the  development  of  humanity,  that  it  must  inevit- 
ably occur  at  certain  stages  of  the  process,  and  not 
to  one  individual  alone.  At  that  very  time  this 
perception  had  been  brought  home  to  the  nobler 
minds  of  Greece  and  Rome  by  the  abolition  of 
barriers  between  nation  and  nation  in  the  Roman 
Empire,  to  the  Jews  by  their  dispersal  into  all 
lands.  In  exile  among  the  Gentiles,  a  close  band 
of  fellowship,  a  readiness  to  help  and  support  each 
other,  was  developed  and  organized,  and  rendered 
still  more  intimate  by  the  additional  element  of 
Christian  faith  in  the  recent  manifestation  and 
speedy  return  of  the  Messiah.  The  two  centuries 
of  oppression  and  persecution  which  Christianity 
had  still  to  pass  through — a  time  to  which  on  the 
whole  it  owes  all  that  is  best  in  its  development 
— were  a  continuous  training  in  those  very  virtues. 
It  must  be  admitted  that  compatriots  and  fellow- 
believers  were  the  first  to  benefit  by  this  active 
charity.  Jesus  himself,  it  is  true,  had  proposed 
to  his  disciples  the  example  of  their  heavenly 
Father,  who  caused  the  sun  to  shine  equally  on 
the  evil  and  the  good,  and  sent  his  rain  upon  the 
just    and   the   unjust.     ISTevertheless,  he   had  pro- 


Are  We  Still  Christians  ?  97 

hibited  his  disciples,  on  their  first  mission,  from 
suffering  the  sunshine  and  fertilizing  rain  of  his 
saving  doctrine  to  fall  also  on  Gentiles  and  Samari- 
tans; thus,  at  least,  we  are  informed  by  Matthew  the 
Evangelist.  No  wonder  that  the  Christian  Church 
yielded  more  and  more  to  the  temptation  of  limiting 
its  charity  to  the  circle  of  the  faithful, — nay,  even 
within  the  confines  of  this  circle,  to  the  professors 
of  the  pretended  true  Christianity,  i.e.,  the  members 
of  that  Church  which  each  respectively  considered 
orthodox.  Christianity  as  such  never  rose  above 
crusades  and  persecutions  of  heretics ;  it  has  never 
even  attained  to  tolerance,  which  yet  is  merely  the 
negative  side  of  universal  benevolence.  Their  assi- 
duity in  works  of  philanthropy,  their  zeal  and 
ability  in  the  organization  of  charitable  labours  and 
institutions,  are  qualities  of  the  "  unco  gude  "  among 
us,  the  glory  of  which  shall  not  be  diminished,  ex- 
cepting in  so  far  as  they  diminish  it  themselves, 
by  the  arriere  pensee  of  hierarchy  or  proselytism. 
Christianity  indeed  emphasized  the  idea  of  humanity ; 
but  Üie  task  of  elaborating  it  into  a  pure  and  com- 
plete form,  of  stating  it  as  a  principle,  was  reserved 
for  the  philosophico-secular  civilization  of  the 
sceptical  eighteenth  century.  The  belief  that 
Christ  died  for  all  men  is  not  only  a  transcendental 
VOL.  I.  H 


98  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New. 

ground  for  the  love  of  all  mankind,  the  true  reason 
of  which  lies  much  closer  at  hand  ;  it  also  runs  the 
danger  of  confiningr  this  love  to  those  who  believe 
in  the  atonement,  at  least  to  those  who  do  not 
wittingly  disbelieve  it. 

The  same  holds  good  of  all  the  other  Christian 
precepts;  Christianity  did  not  bring  them  to  the 
world,  nor  will  they  disappear  from  the  world  along 
with  it.  We  shall  retain  all  that  was  really  achieved 
by  Christianity  as  we  have  retained  what  was  accom- 
plished by  Greece  and  Rome,  without  the  form  of 
religion  in  which  that  kernel  ripened  as  in  its 
husk.  Thus  only  shall  we  succeed  in  discard- 
ing at  the  same  time  the  narrowness  and  the 
partiality  which  throughout  adhered  to  the  doc- 
trines of  Christianity, 


SI. 

But  why,  we  shall  perhaps  be  asked,  separate 
what  after  all  might  be  capable  of  union  ?  In  its 
yj resent  development  Christianity  is  not  likely  to 
circumscribe  our  philanthropy,  rather  to  vivify  it ; 
and  such  quickening  will  be  by  no  means  amiss  in 
this  age  of  materialistic  interests,  of  unfettered 
egotism.     Why  not,  then,  in  this  case  also,  try  to 


Are  We  Still  Christians  7  99 

come  up  to  the  precept,  "  This  ought  ye  to  have 
done,  and  not  to  have  left  the  othei^ndone  ? " 

Because,  we  answer,  this  absolutely  will  not  do. 
Why  it  will  not  do  has  been  sufficiently  elucidated 
in  the  foregoing  pages ;  we  cannot  make  a  prop  of 
our  action  out  of  a  faith  which  we  no  longer  possess, 
a  community  from  whose  persuasions  and  temper 
we  are  estranged.  We  will  make  a  trial  of  it,  but 
it  shall  be  the  last.  The  old  creed  was  our  starting- 
point,  and  as  step  by  step  we  traced  its  development 
and  transformation,  we  found  that  in  none  of  its 
forms  was  it  any  longer  acceptable  by  us.  Let  us 
now,  to  conclude,  take  it  in  its  latest,  mildest,  most 
modern  and  at  the  same  time  concrete  form,  as  it 
reveals  itself  in  worship ;  let  us  assist  in  thought  at 
the  Christian  festivals  in  a  Protestant  church,  the 
minister  of  which  is  versed  in  the  scientific  modes 
of  thought,  and  see  whether  we  can  still  be  sincerely 
and  naturally  edified  thereby.  How  will  this  mail 
— or  we,  if  we  put  ourselves  in  his  place — set  to 
work,  and  what  must  the  chain  of  his  reasoning 
necessarily  be,  even  if  he  does  not  care  to  give 
formal  expression  to  everything  ? 

At  Christmas  he  will  tell  himself,  and  perhaps 
also  hint  to  the  intellio^ent  among^  his  audience,  that 
the   miraculous   birth  and  the  virgin  mother  are 


lOO  The  Old  Faith  and  the  Nezv. 

utterly  out  of  the  question.  Further,  that  the 
whole  story  as#)  the  journey  of  Jesus'  parents  to 
Bethlehem  because  of  the  tax  imposed  under 
Cyrenius,  is  an  awkward  fiction,  as  the  tax  was  not 
imposed  until  Jesus  had  already  reached  boyhood. 
That  the  child  presumably  came  quite  peaceably 
into  the  world  in  the  bosom  of  its  Nazarene  family. 
That  the  shepherds  vanish  with  the  manger,  and 
the  angels  with  the  shepherds.  That  with  this 
child  not  peace  alone  came  on  earth,  but  enough 
and  to  spare  of  warfare  and  contention.  In  short, 
that  although  on  that  day  we  certainly  celebrate 
the  birthday  of  a  remarkable  personage,  destined 
to  great  influence  on  the  history  of  mankind,  we 
nevertheless  only  celebrate  that  of  cne  worker  among 
many  in  the  cause  of  human  progi^ess. 

Such  a  minister  would  again  have  to  make  a 
clearance  at  the  Epiphany,  i.e.,  to  eliminate  the 
gospel  narrative  as  a  Messianic  myth.  He  would 
remind  himself,  and  if  he  were  courao-eous  enouo-h, 
his  congregation  also,  how  the  errant  star  was 
none  other  than  that  star  which,  according  to  the 
narrative  in  Numbers,  the  heathen  seer  Balaam 
had  foretold  should  come  out  of  Jacob,  only,  how- 
ever, using  it  as  an  emblem  of  a  triumphant 
Jewish  king;  how  the  wise  men  of  the  East  had 


Are  We  Still  Christians?  loi 

only  been  invented  to  suit  the  star,  while  their 
gifts  were  modelled  after  a  passage»^of  the  pseudo- 
Isaiah,  where,  of  the  light  which  had  risen  over 
Jerusalem — i.e.,  the  light  of  divine  favour  a-min 
vouchsafed  to  the  Jews  at  the  end  of  their  exile — it 
is  said,  that  the  Gentiles  shall  come  to  this  lio-ht, 
and  all  they  from  Sheba  shall  bring  gold  and  in- 
cense. The  infant  Jesus,  this  clergyman  must 
admit,  had  undoubtedly  at  that  time  lain  as  un- 
heeded by  the  wide  world — and  moreover,  not  in 
Bethlehem,  but  probably  in  Nazareth — as  children 
of  plain  citizens  usually  do. 

As  at  Christmas  the  virgin's  son,  so  on  Good 
Friday  our  clergyman  would  have  to  set  aside 
the  sacrificial  death — the  idea  of  the  Redeemer 
altogether.  The  more  honestly  he  should  do  this, 
the  more  would  he  offend  the  staunch  believers; 
the  more  discreetly,  the  less  satisfied  would  be 
the  more  advanced  among  his  audience,  who,  in 
fact,  would  be  justified  in  accusing  him  of  equivo- 
cation, should  he  still  wish  to  hold  fast  by  the 
conception  of  salvation  and  a  Saviour  in  any  non- 
natural  sense. 

His  task  would  become  more  critical  still  as 
legards  Easter.  In  this  case  it  is  hardly  possible 
to  call  the  thing  by  its  correct  name  in  a  Christian 


T02  TJie  Old  Faith  and  the  New, 

Church,  and  if  this  be  not  done,  then  all  speech 
concerning  it  i&mere  phrase. 

Lastly,  on  Ascension-day  it  becomes  difficult  to 
refrain  from  satire.  To  speak  of  this  event  as  one 
of  actual  occurrence  is  simply  to  affront  educated 
people  at  this  time  of  day.  Therefore  it  must  be 
treated  symbolically;  as  has  already  been  done 
with  the  resurrection,  and  must  likewise  be  done 
with  the  miracles,  the  healing  of  the  sick,  the 
raising  from  the  dead,  the  casting  out  of  devils — 
themes  which  repeatedly  furnish  texts  for  sermons 
on  ordinary  Sundays,  and  which  all  admit  of  a 
moral  application.  But  why  take  such  a  roundabout 
way  ?  why  beat  the  bush  after  things  for  which  we 
have  no  use,  in  order  at  last  to  reach  some  desired 
point,  which  we  might  have  attained  in  much 
simpler  and  at  the  same  time  more  decided  fashion 
by  going  straight  at  it  ? 

On  all  these  festivals,  as  well  as  on  ordinary 
Sundays,  our  clergyman  begins  his  discourse  with 
prayer,  not  only  to  God  but  to  Christ  as  well,  after 
which  he  reads  verses  or  sections  from  Holy  Writ 
as  a  text.  Very  well ;  but  now,  as  to  the  first  point, 
whence  does  he  derive  the  right  of  praying  to  a 
mere  man  ?  for  as  such  he  regards  Christ.  Habit 
alone  makes  us  overlook  the  enormity  of  such  a 


Are  We  Still  Christians^  103 

usage,  which  has  been  imported  from  quite  another 
standpoint;  or  is  the  fact  to  be  looked  at  in  the 
light  of  rhetorical  licence,  as  it  may  be  allowable 
to  address  a  mountain,  a  river  ?  then  it  must  be 
objected  that  the  church,  where  everything  is 
and  should  be  seriously  treated,  is  not  the  place 
for  such  a  licence.  But  as  regards  the  texts  of 
Scripture — has  the  minister  arrived  at  an  under- 
standing with  his  audience  as  to  what  they  possess 
in  the  so-called  Holy  Scripture  ?  Has  he  told 
them  the  men  of  the  Keformation  have  conquered 
for  us  the  right  of  free  inquiry  in  Scripture,  but 
modern  science  has  conquered  for  itself  that  of  free 
inquiry  about  Scripture  ?  And  has  he  clearly 
shown  them  what  this  implies  ?  That  reason 
which  institutes  inquiries  about  Scripture  —  i.e., 
not  in  order  to  comprehend  its  contents,  but  also 
to  ascertain  its  origin,  the  measure  of  its  credi- 
bility and  its  worth — necessarijy  stands  above 
Scripture?  that  Scripture  has  ceased,  therefore,  to 
be  the  highest  source  of  religious  knowledge  ? 
We  can  count  the  theologians  who  have  hitherto 
honestly  spoken  out  on  this  point.  Progress,  it 
is  pretended,  has  taken  place  in  gradual  ascent 
along  easy  ground,  from  the  standpoint  of  the  re- 
formers to  the  liberal  theology  of  our  time,  while  the 


1 04  The  Old  Faith  and  the  Nezü. 

fact  of  the  displacement  of  Scripture  as  a  supreme 
authority  involves  a  step  higher  and  more  dangerous 
even  than  that  other  one  which  had  to  be  scaled  from 
the  Catholic  standpoint  by  the  Reformers. 

But  let  us  still  for  a  moment  remain  in  our  modern 
Protestant  church,  and  assist  at  the  administration 
of  the  sacraments.  Deducting  all  mere  formalism, 
we  here  get  the  impression  that  the  rite  of  baptism 
misfht  not  have  been  without  a  sufficient  meanino^ 
at  a  time  when  it  was  necessary  to  gather  in  the 
new  Messianic  community  from  the  world  of  Jew 
and  Gentile,  and  to  unite  it  by  a  common  consecra- 
tion. To-day,  in  the  midst  of  a  Christian  world, 
there  is  no  longer  any  meaning  in  this ;  but  as  the 
later  ecclesiastical  relation  of  baptism  to  original 
sin  and  the  devil  is  even  more  out  of  the  question, 
baptisms  in  the  modern  church,  in  the  service  of 
which  we  are  mentally  participating,  must  neces- 
saiily  appear  as  a  ceremony  without  any  real  signifi- 
cance, nay,  with  a  meaning  which  is  repugnant  to  us. 
We  will  leave  it  to  the  Jews  to  stamp  their  infant 
sons  as  something  special  by  a  permanent  physical 
mark ;  we  would  not  have  even  a  transient  one,  for 
we  would  not  have  our  children  something  special, 
we  would  only  have  them  men,  and  to  be  men  we 
will  bring  them  up. 


Are  We  Still  Chris  flans?  105 

As  baptism,  along  with  its  relations  to  the  world 
of  Jew  and  Gentile,  and  further,  to  original  sin  and 
the  devil,  has  lost  its  real  meaning,  thus  also  has 
it  fared  with  the  Lord's  Supper  in  regard  to  the 
atonement,  nothing  remaining  now  but  the  repulsive 
oriental  metaphor  of  drinking  the  blood  and  eating 
of  the  body  of  a  man.  In  the  next  place,  the  imbecile 
and  yet  fateful  quarrels  about  it,  as  to  whether  the 
thing  should  not  be  taken  literally — whether  it 
were  not  the  actual  flesh  and  blood — are  painful  to 
remember.  We  might  be  well  pleased  by  a  fraternal 
feast  of  humanity,  with  a  common  draught  from  a 
single  cup  ;  but  blood  would  be  the  very  last  beve- 
rage we  should  dream  of  putting  into  the  latter. 

On  the  altar  of  our  modern  Protestant  church,  in 
so  far  as  it  stands  on  Lutheran  ground,  we  shall  find 
the  image  of  the  crucified  Christ,  the  so-called 
crucifix.  This  old  chief  symbol  of  Christianity  the 
Catholic  church,  as  is  known,  is  extravagantly  fond 
of  placing  up  and  down  the  country-side ;  the  Pro- 
testant church,  in  so  far  as  it  did  not  put  it  on  one 
side  with  other  images,  has,  at  least,  with  a  kind  of 
shame,  removed  it  to  the  interior  of  churches  and 
houses,  besides  allowing  the  empty  cross  to  stand  on 
cemeteries,  steeples,  and  the  like.  It  was  possibly  on 
his  Italian  journey,  or  in  some  other  Catholic  country, 


io6  The  Old  Faith  and  the  Ahm, 

that  Goetlie,  vexed  by  its  obtrusiveness,  took  the 
dislike  which  impelled  him,  in  the  notorious  verse  of 
his  Venetian  epigram,  to  put  the  cross  side  by  side 
with  garlic  and  vermin.     Nothing  but  the  mere  form 
of  this  sign — the  stiff  little  piece  of  wood  placed 
crosswise  on  another  little   piece   of  wood,  as   he 
expresses  it  in  the  "West-Eastern  Divan," — was  un- 
pleasant to  him,  and  it  would  certainly  have  cheered 
him  had  he  known  that  in  this  he  agreed  with  that 
staunch  Elizabeth  Charlotte,  Princess  of  the  Palati- 
nate and  Duchess  of  Orleans,  who  likewise  confessed 
"  to  not  at  all  liking  to  see  the  cross,"  because  its 
form  did  not  please  her.     Perhaps  even  half-uncon- 
sciously  in  her  case,  and  certainly  in  Goethe's,  there 
was  something  over  and  above  the  mere  form,  over 
and  above  a  simple  sesthetic  dislike,  which  repelled 
him  in  the  cross.     It  was  "  the  image  of  sorrow  on 
the  tree,"  which,  according  to  the  passage  referred 
to  in  the  "Divan,"  ought  not  to  be  "made  a  god." 
The  crucifix  is,  on  the  one  hand,  the  visible  and 
tangible  pledge  of  the  remission  of  sins  to  the  faith- 
ful ;  on  the  other,  however,  the  deification  of  sorrow 
generally;   it   is   humanity  in   its   saddest   plight, 
broken  and  shattered  in  all  its  limbs,  so  to  speak, 
and  in  a  certain  sense  rejoicing  thereat;  it  is  the 
most    one-sided,   ri<jid    embodiment    of    Christian 


Are  We  Still  Christians  1  1 07 

world- renunciation  and  passiveness.  In  a  symbol 
of  this  kind,  mankind  rejoicing  in  life  and  action 
can  now  no  longer  find  the  expression  of  its 
religious  consciousness;  and  the  continued  regard 
accorded  it  in  the  modern  Protestant  Church  is, 
after  all,  but  one  more  of  those  compromises  and 
untruths  which  make  it  a  thing  of  such  feeble 
vitality. 

And  now,  I  think  we  have  reached  the  end.     And 
the  result  \     Our  answer  to  the  question  with  which 
we  have  headed  this  section  of  our  account  ?     Shall 
I  still  give  a  distinct  statement,  and  place  the  sum 
of  all  we  have  said  in  round  numbers  under  the  ac- 
count ?      Most   unnecessary,   I   should   say ;   but   I 
would   not,   on   any  consideration,  appear  to  shirk 
even  the  most  unpalatable  word.     My  conviction, 
therefore,  is,  if  we  would  not  evade  difficulties  or 
put  forced  constructions  upon  them,  if  we  would 
have  our  yea  yea,  and  our  nay  nay, — in  short,  if  we 
would   speak    as   honest,  upright   men,   we   must 
acknowledge  we  are  no  longer  Christians. 

In  saying  this  we  have  not,  however,  as  already 
remarked  at  the  beginning,  altogether  renounced 
religion ;  we  might  still  be  religious,  even  if  we 
were  so  no  longer  in  tie  form  of  Christianity.  We 
therefore  put  our  second  question  thus : 


loS 


IL 

HAVE  WE  STILL  A  EELIGION  ? 

32. 

"\T7E  shall  be  all  the  less  inclined  to  reply  in 
the  negative,  without  further  examination,  as 
we  are  in  the  habit  of  regarding  the  capacity  for 
religion  as  a  prerogative  of  human  nature,  nay,  as 
its  most  illustrious  pre-eminence.  One  thing,  at  all 
events,  is  certain :  that  the  brute,  destitute  of  what 
we  term  reason,  is  devoid  of  this  capacity  also. 
The  tribes  which  have  left  travellers  in  doubt  of 
their  possessing  a  religion  have  always  been  found 
to  be  in  other  respects,  the  most  miserable  and  bru- 
tal. As  we  ascend  in  history,  the  higher  develop- 
ment of  religion  goes  hand  in  hand  with  the  prog- 
ress of  culture  among  nations.  Let  us,  first  of  all, 
therefore,  cast  a  glance  at  the  origin  and  earliest 
development  of  religion  among  mankind. 

Hume  is  undoubtedly  correct  in  his  assertion  that 
mankind  have  originally  been  led  to  religion,  not 
by  the  disinterested  desire  of  knowledge  and  truth, 


"       Have  We  Still  a  Religion?  109 

but  by  the  selfish  craving  for  material  welfare ;  and 
that  pain  has  contributed  more  potently  than  allure- 
ment to  the  propagation  of  religion.  The  Epicurean 
derivation  of  piety  from  fear  has,  incontestably,  a 
good  deal  of  truth  in  it.  For  if  man  had  all  he 
wished,  if  his  needs  were  always  satisfied,  if  his 
plans  never  miscarried,  if  no  painful  lessons  of 
experience  constrained  him  to  regard  the  future 
with  apprehension,  the  notion  of  a  higher  power 
would  hardly  have  arisen  within  his  breast.  He 
would  have  thought  that  thus  it  must  be,  and 
accordingly  have  accepted  his  lot  with  stolid  in- 
difierence. 

As  things  are,  however,  his  first  perception  in 
regard  to  Nature  is  that  of  his  being  confronted  by 
a  weird,  sinister  power.  True,  Nature  has  a  side 
which  may  appear  friendly  to  man.  The  sun  which 
gives  him  warmth,  the  air  he  breathes,  the  fountain 
that  slakes  his  thh^st,  the  tree  affording  him  grateful 
shade,  the  flocks  and  herds  that  yield  him  milk  and 
wool,  appear  to  exist  for  the  welfare  of  man,  to 
have  been  the  gift  of  a  beneficent  power.  Up  to  a 
certain  limit  Nature  likewise  allows  man  to  exercise 
a  determining  influence  upon  her;  he  ploughs  his 
field,  tames  and  makes  use  of  domestic  animals, 
hunts  and  kills  the  wild,  constructs  his  bark  for 


1 10  The  Old  FaiiJi  and  the  New, 

river  or  lake,  and  prepares  his  hut,  his  scanty- 
clothing,  as  a  protection  against  the  inclemency  of 
the  weather.  But  terrible  indeed  is  the  reverse 
side  of  this  kindly  countenance.  Beside  and  behind 
the  narrow  border-land  on  which  Nature  gives  him 
fi'ee  play,  she  reserves  to  herself  an  enormous  pre- 
dominance, which,  bursting  forth  unexpectedly, 
makes  cruel  sport  of  every  human  effort.  The 
hurricane  overwhelms  the  boat  and  the  boatman; 
lightning  consumes  the  hut,  or  inundation  sweeps 
it  away ;  a  murrain  ravages  the  flock ;  heat  parches 
or  hail  annihilates  the  produce  of  the  fields ;  while 
man  himself  knows  he  is  exposed,  without  perma- 
nent protection,  to  chance  and  calamity,  disease  and 
death. 

This  indifference  of  Nature  to  him,  his  constant 
dealing  with  a  power  which  is  alien  to  him,  and  to 
which  he  himself  is  alien,  and  with  which,  in  a  word, 
nothing  can  be  done, — this  it  is  that  man  finds  un- 
bearable, against  which  his  inmost  being  rises  in 
resistance.  The  only  deliverance  from  Nature  is  to 
invest  her  with  the  attributes  of  which  he  is  con- 
scious in  himself.  She  is  only  then  not  inhuman 
wdien  she  becomes  a  power  in  the  image  of  man. 
Even  the  destructive  natural  forces  are  then  no 
longer  as  pernicious  as  they  seemed.     The  simoom 


Have  We  Still  a  Relio-lon  ?  1 1 1 


o> 


of  the  desert,  tlie  pestilence  which  stalks  through 
the  land — if  they  are  only  conceived  of  as  blind 
impersonal  powers,  then  man,  in  regard  to  them,  is 
a  helpless  cypher.  Conceived  of  as  persons,  as 
higher  beings,  as  daemons  or  divinities,  although 
still  evil,  nevertheless  much  has  been  gained — a 
hold  upon  them.  Are  there  not  also  wicked,  cruel, 
and  malignant  men,  and  such,  moreover,  as,  like 
those  natural  forces,  are  at  the  same  time  so  power- 
ful as  to  be  irresistible  ?  and  nevertheless  there  are 
means  to  come  to  an  arrangement  with  such — at 
least,  to  escape  their  clutches  with  but  passable 
damage.  Let  submission  be  duly  made,  be  not 
chary  of  flattery  and  gifts,  and  behold,  they  show 
themselves  more  tractable  than  one  dared  to  hope. 
So  it  comes  to  pass  with  those  destructive  natural 
forces,  as  soon  as  it  is  settled  that  they  are  endowed 
with  reason  and  will — beings,  in  short,  resembling 
man.  Now  people  go  forth  to  meet  Typhon  with 
prayers  and  sacrifice;  they  offer  up  appropriate  gifts 
to  the  god  of  the  plague;  they  are  comforted  by  the 
reflection  that,  from  a  human  point  of  view,  they 
may  hope  to  have  influenced  these  beings  in  their 
favour,  to  have  appeased  their  wrath  by  such  means. 
Neither,  by  any  means,  are  all  the  forces  of  Nature 
so  utterly  evil  as  those  we  have  adduced : 


1 1 2  Tlie  Old  Faith  and  the  N'ew, 

Kindly  from  heaven's  cloud  the  rain 
Streams  on  the  plain  ; 
Blindly  from  ilie  cloud  of  heaven 
Leaps  forth  the  levin. 

Eain  and  lightning  are  only  the  various  manifes- 
tations of  the  same  power,  the  deity  of  the  upper 
air ;  the  Zeus  of  the  Hellenic  conception,  who,  now 
merciful,  now  terrible,  sometimes  sends  fertilizing 
rain  to  the  plain,  and  sometimes,  not  so  blindly,  how- 
ever, as  the  modern  poet  imagines,  his  destructive 
thunderbolts.  Such  a  power,  in  spite  of  the  perni- 
cious forces  at  its  disposal,  may  nevertheless  be  good 
in  itself,  and  benevolently  inclined  to  man,  and  only 
cause  those  evil  effects  when  man  has  exasperated  it, 
and  kindled  its  wrath  against  him.  All  the  easier, 
therefore,  will  it  be  for  man  to  appease  the  excited 
passion  of  an  inherently  beneficent  being,  by  proofs 
of  his  submission  and  devotion. 

But  if  such  a  manifestation  of  Nature,  or  an 
aggregate  of  natural  phenomena,  especially  such  as 
those  on  which  the  weal  or  woe  of  the  entire  popu- 
lation of  a  country  is  dependent  in  an  extraordinary 
degree — as,  for  example,  in  Egypt,  the  Nile  on  the 
one  hand,  the  blast  of  the  desert  on  the  other — be 
once  personified  in  this  fashion,  the  process  will  soon 
traverse  the   whole   circumference   of  nature   and 


Have  We  Still  a  Religion  ?  113 

human  existence.  To  heaven  as  Uranos  or  Zeus 
■we  shall  have  confronted  the  earth  as  Gaia  or 
Demeter,  the  sea  as  Poseidon ;  the  breeding  of  cattle, 
and  agriculture,  corn,  and  the  vine,  have  each  their 
presiding  deities ;  as  well  as  music  and  medicine, 
commerce  and  war.  The  imagination  of  the  various 
nations  proceeds,  as  to  this,  with  the  utmost  freedom 
and  carelessness  :  the  same  departments  are  some- 
times distributed  among  different  deities,  sometimes, 
again,  assigned  to  one  and  the  same  god,  as  especial 
aspects  or  manifestations  of  his  nature.  Apollo, 
besides  being  the  god  of  music  and  prophecy,  is  also 
that  of  medicine,  which  yet  he  has  transferred  to  his 
son  ^sculapius  as  its  presiding  genius ;  Mars  is  the 
god  of  war,  but  Minerva  also  is  a  warlike  goddess :  in 
the  former,  war  is  personified  as  a  rude  inhuman  pur- 
suit; in  the  latter,  so  to  speak,  as  the  regular  military 
art.  And  what  a  multitude  of  functions  and  names, — 
from  Stator  to  Pistor  and  Stercutius,  from  Regina  to 
Pronuba  and  Lucina, — were  not  heaped  on  Jupiter 
and  Juno,  to  be  taken  away  again  in  manifold 
changes  by  the  inferior  deities ! 

For  the  further  a  nation  advances  in  civilization, 
the  more  importance  will  it  attach  to  human  life 
and  its  various  relations,  as  well  as  to  the  terrors 
and  blessings  of  inanimate  nature.     And  the  more 

VOL.  I.  I 


1 14  The  Old  I-aüh  and  the  A^ew, 

insecurity  and  hazard  in  mortal  life,  the  more 
things  dependent  on  circumstances  which  elude 
human  calculation  and  are  yet  more  beyond  the 
control  of  human  power,  the  more  pressing  will 
gTow  man's  need  to  postulate  powers  akin  to  his 
own  nature,  accessible  to  his  wishes  and  prayers. 
At  the  same  time,  man's  moral  constitution  now 
comes  into  play  as  a  co-operating  agent :  not  only 
against  others,  but  against  his  own  sensuality  and 
capriciousness  as  well,  would  he  protect  himself 
by  placing  in  reserve  behind  the  dictates  of  his 
conscience,  a  commanding  God. 

How  helpless  is  the  stranger  in  a  foreign  country 
amid  a  foreign  people,  and  how  easy  is  it  to  take 
advantage  of  his  defenceless  situation ;  but  there  is 
a  Zei)<;  ^ivto^  who  protects  the  guest.  How  unsafe  is 
it  to  rely  on  the  promises — even  the  oaths — of  men, 
and  how  pressing  the  temptation  under  certain  cir- 
cumstances to  seek  to  evade  them  ;  but  there  rules 
a  Z€v<;  opKLo^  who  punishes  perjury.  Not  always  is 
bloody  murder  discovered  by  men ;  but  the  sleepless 
Eumenides  dog  the  step  of  the  fugitive  assassin. 
One  of  the  most  important  relations  of  life  amono* 
civilized  nations  has  always  been  the  marriage  bond; 
but  how  hazardous  is  it  not  ?  what  manifold  pos- 
sibilities of  unhajipy  results,  how  much  temptation 


Have  We  Slill  a  Religion  ?  115 

to  transgression  does  it  not  involve  ?  To  counteract 
these,  the  pious  Greek  and  Roman  sought  a  security 
in  the  celestial  marriage  of  Zeus  and  Hera.  It  cer- 
tainly is  no  model  wedlock,  in  the  ideal  sense,  rather 
an  emblem  of  the  frailty  of  human  unions,  besides 
being  depicted  by  the  Greeks  with  all  the  moral 
levity  of  that  people;  nevertheless,  Jupiter  and 
Juno  make  and  protect  matrimonial  alliances; 
Juno  especially  leads-  the  bride  to  her  husband, 
conducts  her  to  his  house,  unbinds  her  zone,  as 
later  on  she  unravels  the  misunderstandings  be- 
tween them,  and  at  last,  without  imperilling  the 
mother,  ushers  the  yearned-for  fruits  of  marriage 
to  the  light  of  day. 

83. 

Hence  it  follows  that  polytheism  was  the  original, 
and  in  some  respects  the  natural  form  of  religion. 
A  multiplicity  of  phenomena  presented  themselves 
to  man,  a  multiplicity  of  forces  pressed  in  upon 
him,  from  which  he  either  wished  himself  protected, 
or  of  whose  favour  he  desired  to  be  assured ;  then 
also  a  variety  of  relations  which  he  craved  to  have 
sanctified  and  securely  established ;  thus  naturally 
arose,  also,  a  multiplicity  of  divinities.  This  conclu- 
ßion  is  confirmed  by  the  observation,  that  all  those 


1 1 6  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New. 

tribes  of  the  earth  which  are  still  to  a  certaia  ex- 
tent in  a  state  of  nature,  continue  now,  as  formerly, 
to  be  polytheists.  Monotheism  appears  everywhere 
in  history,  the  Jewish  not  excepted,  as  something 
secondary,  as  something  educed  in  the  lapse  of 
time  out  of  a  more  primitive  polytheism.  How 
was  this  transition  effected  ? 

Is  is  said,  certainly,  that  a  more  exact  observation 
of  Nature  must  have  led  man  to  perceive  the  con- 
nexion of  all  her  phenomena,  the  unity  of  design 
in  which    all  her   laws    converge.     And   in    like 
manner  the  development  of  man's  powers  of  reflec- 
tion must  have  rendered  it  evident  tliat  a  plurality 
of  deities  must  mutually  limit  each  other,  and  in 
consequence  deprive  each  other  of  the  very  attri- 
butes of  divinity,  so  that  the  deity,  in  the  true  and 
complete  sense  of  that  word,  could  only  be  a  unit. 
Insight  of  this  kind,  it  is  argued,  came  to  a  few 
highly-gifted   individuals   of  antiquity,  and   these 
became  in  consequence  the  founders  of  monotheism. 
We  know  full  well  the  highly-gifted  individuals 
who  acquired  insight  in  this   manner :  they  were 
the  Greek  philosophers ;  but  they  became  founders, 
not  of  a  religion,  but  of  philosophical  systems  and 
schools.     Of  a  like  nature  is  the  oscillating  mono- 
theism of  the  Indian  religion :  it  is  an  esoteric,  mys- 


Have  We  Still  a  Religion  ?  117 

tical  doctrine,  tlie  presentiment  of  a  few,  developed 
from  the  popular  polytheism. 

Monotheism  first  occurs  among  the  Jews  in  the 
firm  serried  form  of  a  popular  religion.     And  here 
also  we  can  clearly  apprehend  its  origin.     Hebrew 
monotheism  was  certainly  not  produced  by  a  deeper 
observation   of  nature ;   the   Hebrews   for   a   long 
while  caring  only  for  nature  in  its  relation  to  their 
own  wants.     Neither  did  it  arise  from  philosophical 
speculation;  for  before  the  impulse  communicated 
to  them  by  the  Greeks,  the  Jews  did  not  speculate, 
at  least  not  in  the  philosophical  sense.    Monotheism 
(the  fact  becomes  evident  in  that  of  the  Jcavs,  and 
is  further  confirmed  by  Islamism)  is  originally  and 
essentially  the  religion  of  a  wandering  clan.     The 
requirements   of  such  a   nomadic   band   are   very 
simple,  as  are  also   its  social   arrangements ;   and 
although  at  first   (as  may  also  here  be  assumed  to 
have  been  the  primitive  idea)  these  may  have  been 
presided  over  by  distinct  Fetishes,  Daemons,  or  deities, 
nevertheless   this   distinction   disappeared  in   pro- 
portion as  the  horde  concentrated  itself  (as  did,  for 
example,  the  Israelites  in  their  invasion  of  Canaan) 
and  receded  more  and  more,  as  in  course  of  warfare 
with  hordes   like  themselves,  or  with   tribes  and 
nations   of  different   institutions,   the   contrast  to 


1 1 8  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New, 

these  latter  gained  prominence.  As  it  was  but  a 
sino-le  entliusiasm  which  inspired  the  clan,  which 
strengthened  it  in  its  conflict  with  others,  gave  it 
hope  in  victory,  and  even  in  defeat  the  trust  in 
future  triumph;  even  thus  it  was  only  one  god 
whom  it  served,  from  whom  it  expected  all  things ; 
or,  rather  even  this  god  was,  in  fact,  only  its  deified 
popular  spirit.  True,  at  first  the  gods  of  other 
tribes  and  nations  were  conceived  as  antaoronistic  to 
the  one  god  of  the  clan — the  gods  of  the  Canaanites 
to  the  god  of  Israel ;  but  as  the  weaker,  the  inferior, 
destined  to  be  overcome  by  the  god  of  the  clan — vain 
gods,  who  at  last  must  actually  vanish  into  nothing, 
leaving  the  one  true  God  alone. 

It  is  only  an  ancient  Christian- Hebrew  prejudice 
to  consider  monotheism  in  itself,  as  contrasted  with 
polytheism,  the  higher  form  of  religion.  There  is  a 
monotheism  which  is  superior  to  polytheism ;  but 
also  one  which  is  the  reverse.  He  who  should  have 
expected  the  Greeks  of  the  centuries  between 
Homer  and  ^schylus  to  exchange  their  Olympian 
circle  of  gods  for  the  one  god  of  Sinai,  would  have 
demanded  from  them  the  surrender  of  their  rich 
and  complete  existence,  putting  forth  in  all  dii^ec- 
tions  the  boncj-hs  and  blossoms  of  a  most  beautiful 
humanity,  for  the  poverty  and  one-sidedness  of  the 


Have  We  Still  a  Religion?  119 

Jewish  nature.  In  Schiller's  "  Gods  of  Greece,"  there 
still  echoes  the  lament  over  the  impoverishment  of 
life  by  the  triumph  of  monotheism;  and  yet  the 
one  god  of  his  conception  is  already  far  removed 
from  the  ancient  Hebrew  divinity. 

One  advantage  monotheism  attains,  so  to  speak, 
adventitiously,  which  at  a  later  period  produces 
the  most  important  results.  The  plurality  of 
gods,  agreeably  to  the  law  of  their  origin,  how- 
ever they  may  be  transferred  to  the  domain  of 
ethics,  must  ever  remain  bound  to  the  individual 
forces  and  aspects  of  nature,  and  in  consequence,  as 
we  observe  in  the  case  of  the  Grecian  gods,  some- 
thing sensuous  adheres  to  their  essence.  The  dis- 
tinction of  sex  inseparable  from  polytheism  is,  of 
itself,  a  sufficient  proof  of  this.  The  one  God,  how- 
ever, merely  because  he  is  the  one,  while  nature 
consists  of  a  multiplicity  of  forces  and  manifesta- 
tions, must  necessarily  rise  above  nature.  This 
exaltation  was  accomplished  only  gradually,  and  with 
a  certain  repugnance  by  the  Jewish  people,  but  nev- 
ertheless, with  the  greater  strictness  at  last,  as  the 
neighbouring  tribes,  with  whom  it  had  to  contend, 
declined  in  their  worship  of  rude  physical  deities. 
These  were  detestable  to  the  Jew,  even  in  their  very 
images ;  therefore  at  last  he  interdicted  himself  any 


I20  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New. 

image  of  his  God.  The  worship  of  these  deities, 
which  diverged  sometimes  into  the  excess  of  the  ter- 
rible, sometimes  into  that  of  the  sensual,  must  have 
appeared  unclean  to  the  worshipper  of  the  one  God 
throned  above  nature ;  the  service  rendered  by  him 
to  his  God  was,  indeed,  far  from  spiritual,  but  nev- 
ertheless, such  as  it  was,  purity  formed  one  of  its 
principal  requisites.  But  out  of  this  external  purity 
grew  the  inward,  in  consequence  of  a  gradually  deep- 
ening conception  ;  the  one  God  developed  into  the 
severe  Law-giver,  monotheism  into  the  nursery  of 
discipline  and  morality. 

It  was  farther  limited,  however,  among  the  Jewish 
people  by  an  innate  spirit  of  provincialism.  The 
precepts  which  Jehovah  gave  his  people  were 
chiefly  framed  to  isolate  it  from  all  the  rest.  The 
one  God  was  the  Maker  of  all,  yet  not  the  God  of  all 
nations  in  the  same  sense  :  properly  he  was  the  God 
only  of  the  little  tribe  of  his  worshippers,  in  com- 
parison to  whom  he  treated  the  other  nations  as  step- 
children. From  this  proceeded  something  harsh, 
rigid,  personally  irascible  in  the  whole  character 
of  this  God.  In  tliis  respect  the  Jewish  conception 
of  God  awaited  its  completion  at  the  hands  of 
Hellenism.  It  was  in  Alexandria  that  the  tribal, 
national  god  of  Israel  intermingled  and  soon  became 


Have  We  Still  a  Re  Horton  ?  121 


t> 


one  with  the  God  of  the  world  and  of  mankind,  who 
had  been  evolved  by  Greek  philosophers  from  the 
multitude   of  Olympian,  deities  in  their  national 


religion. 


84 

Our  modern  monotheistic  conception  of  God  has 
two  sides,  that  of  the  absolute,  and  that  of  the 
personal,  which,  although  united  in  him,  are  so  in  the 
same  manner  as  that  in  which  two  qualities  are  some- 
times found  in  one  person,  one  of  which  can  be 
traced  to  the  father's  side,  the  other  to  the  mother's. 
The  one  element  is  the  Hebrew-Christian,  the  other 
the  Grseco-philosophical  contribution  to  our  concep- 
tion of  God.  AVe  may  say  that  we  inherit  from  the 
Old  Testament  the  Lord-God,  from  the  New  the 
God-Father,  but  from  Greek  philosophy  the  God- 
head, or  the  Absolute. 

Undoubtedly  the  Jew  also  conceived  his  Jehovah 
as  absolute,  in  so  far  as  he  possessed  the  capacity  of 
such  a  conception;  i.e.,  as  at  least  unlimited  in  power 
and  duration;  above  all,  however,  his  God  was  a 
being  which  asserted  itself  as  a  personality.  Not 
only  that  in  remotest  times  he  walks  in  the  garden 
and  converses  with  Adam ;  that  later  he  in  human 
guise  allows  himself  to  be  regaled  by  the  patriarch 


122  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New. 

under  tlie  tree  by  his  hut ;  that  he  confers  with  the 
law-giver  on  the  mountain,  and  himself  hands  him 
the  two  tables;  but  his  whole  demeanour,  as  an 
angry  and  jealous  God,  who  repents  having  made 
men,  and  prepares  to  destroy  them,  who  regards 
the  transgressions  of  his  chosen  people  as  personal 
injuries,  and  avenges  them  accordingly,  is  altogether 
that  of  a  personal  being.  The  transformation  accom- 
plished by  Christianity  of  the  Lord-God  into  the 
God-Father,  did  not  affect  the  element  of  personality; 
on  the  contrary,  it  rather  intensified  it.  The  more 
tender  the  form  which  intercourse  of  the  pious  with 
his  God  may  assume,  the  more  certainly  will  the 
latter  appear  to  him  as  a  person,  for  a  tender  rela- 
tion can  only  subsist  towards  a  person,  at  the  least 
a  fictitious  one. 

Philosophy,  however,  has  always,  in  the  first 
instance,  laid  the  emphasis  in  regard  to  the  concep- 
tion of  God  on  the  other  side — that  of  the  absolute. 
It  required  a  Supreme  Being,  from  whom  the  exist- 
ence and  ordering  of  the  world  might  be  deduced. 
In  this,  however,  it  found  several  of  the  personal 
attributes  which  Judaism  and  Christianity  had 
intermingled  with  their  conception  of  God,  incon- 
venient and  offensive.  Not  only  could  it  make 
nothing  of  a  repenting  and  wrathful  deity,  but  just 


Have  We  Still  a  Religion^  123 

as  little  of  one  from  whom  somethino^  mio^lit  be 
obtained  by  human  prayers.  It  lay  not  in  its 
intention  to  deprive  God  of  personality,  but  suc.li 
was  practically  its  tendency ;  for  it  required  an 
illimitable  deity,  and  personality  is  a  limit. 

Copernicus  is  sometimes  represented  as  the  man 
who  has,  so  to  speak,  withdrawn  the  seat  from  under 
the  body  of  the  ancient  Hebrew  and  Christian 
Deity  by  means  of  his  system  of  the  universe. 
This  is  an  error,  not  only  from  a  personal  point  of 
view,  inasmuch  as  Copernicus,  like  Kepler  and 
Newton,  did  not  cease  to  be  a  devout  Christian, 
but  also  in  regard  to  his  theory.  It  initiated  a 
reformation  only  within  the  limits  of  the  solar 
system ;  beyond  this  it  suffered  the  sphere  of  the 
fixed  stars,  the  expanded  firmament  of  Scripture,  to 
remain  untouched,  as  a  firm,  crystalline,  spherical 
shell,  enclosing  our  solar  and  planetary  worlds  like  a 
walnut-  shell,  so  that  beyond  it  there  was  room  and 
to  spare  for  a  properly  furnished  heaven,  with  its 
throne  of  God,  etc.  It  was  not  until,  in  consequence 
of  continued  observation  and  calculation,  the  fixed 
stars  were  recognized  to  be  bodies  similar  to  our 
sun,  and  surrounded  presumably  by  analogous  plane- 
tary systems-until  the  universe  resolved  itself  into 
an  infinity  of  heavenly  bodies,  and  heaven  itself 


1 24  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New. 

into  an  ojotical  illusion,    that   the    ancient  personal 
God  was,  as  it  were,  dispossessed  of  his  habitation. 

No  matter,  it  is  said ;  we  know  well  that  God  is 
omnipresent,  and  not  in  need  of  any  particular 
residence.  Certainly  people  know  this,  but  then 
they  also  forget  it  again.  Reason  may  conceive  of 
God  as  omnipresent,  but  imagination,  nevertheless, 
cannot  rid  itself  of  the  endeavour  to  represent  Him 
as  limited  by  space.  Formerly  she  could  do  this 
unhindered,  when  she  still  disposed  of  a  convenient 
area.  N(>w  she  finds  this  more  difficult,  as  she 
knows  that  such  an  area  is  nowhere  to  be  found. 
For  this  knowledge  must  unavoidably  penetrate 
from  the  reasoning  faculty  to  the  imaginative.  He 
who  has  a  clear  cosmical  conception,  in  harmony 
with  the  present  standpoint  of  astronomy,  can  no 
longer  represent  to  himself  a  Deity  throned  in 
heaven,  and  surrounded  by  angelic  hosts. 

The  retinue  of  angels  is  necessary,  however,  to 
the  idea  of  a  personal  God.  A  person  must  needs 
have  society — a  ruler  his  court.  But  with  our  pre- 
sent cosmical  conception,  which  knows  inhabitants 
of  the  heavenly  bodies,  not  any  longer  a  divine  court, 
the  angels  disappear  likewise.  With  heaven,  there- 
fore, no  more  his  palace ;  with  no  angels  assembled 
round  his  throne;  with  neither  thunder  and  light- 


Have  We  Still  a  Religion  ?  125 

Hing  for  Lis  missiles,  nor  war,  famine,  and  pestilence, 
for  his  scourges ; — with  all  these  but  effects  of 
natural  causes,  how,  since  he  has  thus  lost  every 
attribute  of  personal  existence  and  action,  how  can 
we  still  continue  to  conceive  of  a  personality  of 
God? 

Many  a  book  of  travels  has  told  us  what  a 
terrifying  impression  the  unforeseen  eclipses  of  the 
sun  and  moon  continually  produce  on  savao-e 
tribes;  how  by  screams  and  clamour  of  all  sorts, 
they  attempt  to  lend  assistance  to  the  luminous 
power,  and  drive  far  from  him  the  huge  toad,  or 
whatever  other  shape  they  may  ascribe  to  the  ob- 
scuring principle.  This  is  but  natural;  and  it  is 
also  but  natural  that  these  phenomena,  which, 
according  to  the  calculations  of  astronomy,  have 
been  announced  to  us  in  the  almanack,  should  no 
longer  affect  us  religiously;  that  even  the  most 
ignorant  boor  should  no  longer  say  an  Ave  Maria 
or  a  Pater  Noster  to  render  them  harmless. 

But  what  shall  we  say  to  the  fact  that,  as  late  as 
the  year  1866,  English  peers  reproached  Lord  Kussell 
with  not  having  ordered  a  general  fast  against  the 
murrain  which  had  broken  out?  shall  we  in  this  case 


126  TJie  Old  1  aiih  ana  UlC  New. 

ascribe  it  to  ecclesiastical  stupidity,  or  miserable 
bypocrisy?  If  in  a  profoundly  Catholic  country, 
when  rain  is  too  long  deferred,  and  continuous 
drought  threatens  ruin  to  the  crops,  then  we  can 
imagine  the  peasants  expecting  their  priest  to  make 
a  procession  around  the  fields,  and  draw  down 
rain  from  heaven  by  his  entreaties.  If  we  meet 
such  a  procession,  we  shall  exclaim  in  regard  to  the 
peasants,  0  sanda  simplicitas !  in  regard,  to  the 
priest  we  shall  leave  it  open  for  the  present  whether 
he  has  rather  yielded  to  the  urgency  of  pious  sim- 
plicity, or  has  encouraged  it  in  the  interest  of  the 
hierarchy;  but  at  any  rate  we  shall  be  confirmed 
in  our  wish,  that  by  an  improved  education  even 
the  rustic  may  also  be  brought  to  see  that  these 
are  manifestations  of  nature  subject  to  laws  as 
stringent  as  the  eclipses  of  the  sun  and  the  moon, 
although  they  have  not  as  yet  been  investigated 
as  completely  as  the  latter. 

It  is  not  quite  the  same  thing  if  plague  or  cholera 
have  invaded  a  country,  or  broken  out  in  a  city, 
claiming  victims  in  every  street,  every  dwelling; 
or  if,  as  with  us  in  the  past  year,  the  majority  of 
the  sons  of  a  people  have  gone  to  the  wars,  and  are 
opposed  in  combat  to  the  enemy.  In  both  instances 
public  prayers  arise  spontaneously ;  in  the  one  case 


Have  We  Still  a  Religion  f  127 

from  people  still  in  healtli,  in  the  otlier  from  those 
left  behind — the  masses  expecting  the  grantino-  of 
their  petitions,  i.e.,  an  objective  effect  which  is  to 
be  produced  in  favour  of  those  in  danger,  while  the 
reflecting  portion  is  content  to  achieve  for  itself, 
by  collective  prayer,  a  subjective  furtherance  of 
its  end,  through  serenity  and  exaltation  of  spirit — 
the  only  thing,  in  fact,  which  is  gained  by  the 
rest.  Feuerbach  justly  remarks,  however,  that  a 
real  genuine  prayer  is  only  that  by  means  of  which 
the  suppliant  hopes  to  effect  something  which 
could  not  have  been  effected  without  it.  Luther 
was  such  a  suppliant.  He  was  thoroughly  con- 
vinced that  he  had  saved  the  life  of  the  dying 
Melancthon  by  the  prayers  and  reproaches  he  ad- 
dressed to  God,  in  case  he  should  just  at  that  time 
snatch  his  indispensable  colleague  from  his  side. 
Schleiermachcr  was  no  longer  such  a  suppliant. 
He  saw  but  too  clearly  that  every  assumption  of  a 
desire  or  a  right  to  influence  the  divine  decision  by 
even  the  purest  and  most  reasonable  of  human 
wishes  was  as  foolish  as  it  was  impious.  Never- 
theless, he  still  continued  to  pray ;  only  that  he  no 
longer  placed  the  real  importance  of  prayer  in  brino-- 
ing  about  an  objective  result,  but  in  its  subjective 
influence  on  the  soul  of  the  suppliant  himself.     That 


128  The  Old  Faith  and  the  A^ew. 

in  individual  cases  this  may  possibly  remain  tte  only 
ejffect  of  prayer,  i.e.,  that  God  may  perhaps  not  grant 
the  prayer — this  is  a  contingency  which  must  enter 
into  the  calculation  of  even  the  sincerest  believer. 
But  nevertheless,  he  always  looks  upon  the  gi'anting 
of  his  prayer,  i.e.,  its  objective  effectiveness,  as  pos- 
sible in  general  and  probable  in  his  particular  case. 
If,  on  the  other  hand,  I  entreat,  for  example,  the 
preservation  of  a  life  precious  to  me,  while,  never- 
theless, I  clearly  perceive  that  my  prayer  cannot 
produce  the   smallest  objective   result — that,  sup- 
posing even  the  subject  of  it  to  recover,  my  suppli- 
cation has  had  no  more  influence  on  the  course  of 
the  malady  than  the  lifting  of  my  finger  on  the 
course  of  the  moon, — if  with  this  conviction,  and  in 
spite  of  it,  I  still  go  on  praying,  I  am  playing  a 
game  with  myself,  excusable  indeed,  in  view  of  its 
momentary    effect,    but    neither    consistent    with 
dignity  nor  devoid  of  danger. 

In  Schleiermacher  s  case  especially,  prayer  was  the 
expression  of  a  conscious  illusion,  partly  the  result 
of  early  habit,  partly  in  view  of  the  congregation 
which  surrounded  him ;  and  he  intentionally  avoided 
lifting  himself  above  it  by  his  critical  consciousness. 
Kant  was  no  longer  a  suppliant,  but  all  the  more 
honest  to  himself  and  to  others.    He  is  shocked^ 


Have  We  Still  a  Religion'^  129 

quite  irrespectively  of  the  supposed  efficacy  of  prayer 
by  the  pure  position  which  the  supplicant  assumes. 
"  Let  us  picture/'  he  says,  ''  a  pious  and  well-mean- 
ino-  man,  but  narrow-minded  as  regards  a  purified 
conception  of  religion,  who  should  be  taken  unawares 
not  saying  his  prayers,  but  only  making  the  gestures 
appropriate  to  the  act.     I  need  not  say  that  he  will 
naturally   be  expected   to   grow   embarrassed   and 
confused,  just  as  if  he  had  been  in  a  situation  of 
which  he  must  needs  be  ashamed.     But  why  so  ? 
A   person   found    speaking   to   himself  is   at   first 
sight  suspected  of  temporary  insanity ;  and  he  is 
not  quite   unjustly  judged  somewhat  similarly,  if, 
beino'  alone,  his  occupation  or  gesticulation  is  such 
as  can  only  be  used  by  him  who  has  some  other 
person  before  his  eyes,  which,  nevertheless,  is  not 
so  in  the  case  supposed."     Thus  Kant  in  his  "Reli- 
gion within  the  limits  of  mere  Reason : "  still  more 
incisively  does  he  express  himself  in  an  essay  in 
his    posthumous   works :    "  To   ascribe   to    prayer 
other  effects  than  natural  (subjective-psychological) 
ones,  is   foolish,"  he   remarks  here,  "  and  requires 
no  refutation ;   we  can  only  enquire,    Should  the 
prayer  be  retained  on  account  of  its  natural  results  ? 
to  which  the  answer  is,  that  in  any  ease  it  can  be 
recommended  only  according  to  circumstances ;  for 
VOL.  I.  K 


1 30  The  Old  Faith  and  the  Ahw. 

he  who  can  attain  the  vaunted  advantages  of  prayer 
by  other  means  will  stand  in  no  need  of  it." 

That  Kant  has  here,  with  his  wonted  simplicity 
and  precision,  candidly  stated  the  convictions  of 
modern  times  in  regard  to  pra^^er,  can  be  as  little 
disputed  as  that  one  of  the  most  essential  attributes 
of  the  personal  God  has  perished  with  the  belief 
in  the  efficacy  of  prayer. 

S6. 

Now  at  last,  it  seems,  we  must  draw  up  the 
heavy,  somewhat  old-fashioned,  scientific  artillery 
of  the  so-called  proofs  of  the  existence  of  God, 
all  of  them  seeking  to  demonstrate,  according  to 
the  intention  of  those  who  originated  them,  a  God 
in  the  pecuHar  sense  of  the  w^ord,  wlio,  after  all,  can 
only  be  a  personal  one. 

In  the  first  place,  then,  according  to  the  law  that 
everything  must  have  a  sufficient  cause,  the  so-called 
cosmological  argument  infers  from  the  existence  of 
the  world  the  necessary  existence  of  a  personal  God. 
Of  all  the  various  things  which  we  perceive  in  tlie 
world,  not  one  is  self-existent,  each  owing  its  origin 
to  something  else,  which,  however  is  in  the  liko 
predicament  of  owing  its  origin  to  some  other 
thing;   thus   reflection   is   ever   sent   on   from   one 


Have  We  Still  a  Religion  ?  131 

thing  to  another,  and  never  rests  till  it  has  reached 
the  thought  of  the  One  Being,  the  cause  of  whose 
existence  rests  not  with  another,  but  in  himself,  who 
is  no  longer  a  contingent,  but  a  necessary  existence. 
In  the  first  place,  however,  the  personality  of 
this  necessary  Being  would  by  no  means  have  been 
established,  for  we  should  merely  have  proved  a  first 
Cause,  not  an  intelligent  Creator  of  the  world.  But 
in  the  second  place,  we  have  not  even  demonstrated 
a  Cause.  A  cause  is  other  than  its  effect ;  the  cause 
of  the  universe  would  be  something  else  than  the  uni- 
verse; our  conclusion  would  therefore  land  us  beyond 
the  limits  of  the  Cosmos.  But  is  this  result  reached 
by  fair  means  ?  If  we  invariably  arrive  at  the 
conclusion,  in  regard  to  every  individual  existence 
or  phenomenon  in  the  world,  examine  as  many  as 
we  please,  that  each  has  the  ground  of  its  existence 
in  some  other,  which  again  stands  in  the  same 
predicament  as  regards  something  else,  then  we 
justly  conclude  that  the  same  law  obtains  with 
regard  to  all  individual  existences  and  phenomena, 
even  those  which  we  have  not  especially  examined. 
But  are  we,  then,  justified  in  concluding  the  totality 
of  these  individual  existences  and  phenomena  to 
be  caused  by  a  Being  not  similarly  conditioned 
which  has  not,  like  these,  the  source  of  its  existence 


132  The  Old  Failh  and  the  New, 

in  something  else,  but  in  itself  ?  This  is  a  conclusion 
devoid  of  all  coherence,  all  logic.  By  any  method 
of  logical  reasoning  we  shall*  not  get  beyond  the 
universe.  If  everything  in  the  universe  has  been 
caused  by  something  else,  and  so  on,  cid  infLniiwm, 
Avhat  we  finally  reach  is  not  the  conception  of  a 
Cause  of  which  the  Cosmos  is  the  effect,  but  of  a 
Substance  of  which  individual  cosmical  phenomena 
are  but  the  accidents.  We  reach  not  a  deity,  but  a 
self-centred  Cosmos,  unchangeable  amid  the  eternal 
chancre  of  thinors. 

o  o 

But  we  shall  be  reminded  that  the  cosmological 
proof  is  not  to  be  taken  by  itself;  that  it  must,  to 
gain  its  proper  weight,  be  united  to  the  teleological 
or  physico- theological  demonstration.  This  latter 
takes  for  a  starting-point  not  only  the  bare  fact 
of  the  derivative  and  contingent  existence  of  all 
things,  but  also  their  distinctive  character,  their 
judicious  adaptation  as  a  whole  and  in  their  parts. 
Whichever  way  we  look  in  the  world  —  in  the 
infinitely  little  or  great,  in  the  order  of  the  solar 
system  as  well  as  in  the  structure  and  nutrition  of 
the  tiniest  insect — we  see  means  employed  by  which 
certain  ends  are  attained ;  we  may  define  the  world 
as  a  whole  of  infinitely  judicious  contrivance.  The 
contemplation  of  ends,  however,  and  the  employ- 


Have  We  Still  a  Religion'^  133 

ment  of  means  to  attain  them,  are  exclusively  the 
functions  of  consciousness,  of  intelligence.  We  are 
therefore  constrained  by  the  physico-theological 
proof  to  define  the  first  Cause,  in  the  cosmologlcal 
argument,  as  an  intelligent  personal  Creator. 

But  how  if  the  cosmologlcal  argument,  as  shown 
above,  has  not  furnished  us  a  transcendental  first 
Cause,  but  only  a  Substance  immanent  in  the  uni- 
verse ?  Certainly  in  that  case  the  Primal  Substance 
will  have  received  one  predicate  the  more ;  we 
shall  conceive  of  it  as  of  an  entity  manifesting 
itself  in  endless  variety,  not  only  causatively,  but 
also  in  the  adaptation  and  co-ordination  of  pheno- 
mena. In  so  doing  we  must,  however,  beware  of 
mistaking  one  for  the  other.  We  being  men,  are 
only  capable  of  producing  a  work  the  parts  of  which 
shall  harmonize  for  the  attainment  of  a  certain  result, 
by  means  of  the  conscious  conception  of  an  end  and 
an  equally  conscious  selection  of  means,  but  we  must 
not  therefore  conclude  that  natural  works  of  a  like 
description  can  only  have  been  produced  by  the  cor- 
responding agency  of  an  intelligent  Creator.  This 
by  no  means  follows,  and  Nature  herself  proves  the 
fallacy  of  the  assumption  that  adaptation  can  only 
be  the  work  of  conscious  intelligence.  Kant  already, 
in  regard  to  this,  pointed  to  the  artistic  instincts  of 


134  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New. 

several  animals,  and  Schopenhauer  justly  remarks 
that  the  instinct  of  animals  generally  is  the  best  ex- 
position of  the  teleology  of  nature.  Just  as  instinct 
is  an  activity  apparently  displayed  in  obedience  to  a 
conscious  aim,  and  yet  acting  without  any  such  aim, 
so  is  it  with  the  operations  of  N'ature.  The  method 
of  her  procedure,  however,  must  be  reserved  for 
another  place. 

Of  the  remaining  so-called  proofs  for  the  existence 
of  God,  the  only  one  we  need  still  advert  to  is  the 
moral  one.  The  argument  is  twofold :  I.  that  the 
absolute  stringency  with  which  the  moral  law  mani- 
fests itself  in  our  conscience,  proves  its  origin  from 
an  absolute  Being  ;  and  II.  that  the  necessity  under 
which  we  lie  of  proposing  to  ourselves  the  further- 
ance of  the  highest  good  in  the  world — of  morality, 
with  corresponding  happiness — points  to  the  existence 
of  a  Being  which  shall  be  able  to  realize  in  a  future 
life  the  just  balance  between  the  two  sides,  which  is 
never  attained  in  this. 

But,  as  regards  the  first  form  of  this  presumptive 
proof,  we  possess  nothing  bat  the  contrivance  of 
our  reasoning  instincts,  to  ascribe  to  heaven,  as  long 
as  their  origin  is  unrecognized,  the  moral  precepts 
which  have  necessarily  been  educed  from  the  nature 
of  man,  or  the  wants  of  society.    "We  fasten  them  to 


Have   We  Still  a  Religion?  135 

Heaven,  as  it  were,  in  order  to  place  tliem  out  of 
the  reacli  of  the  violence  or  subtlety  of  our  pas- 
sions. 

But  in  the  second  form,  devised  by  Kant,  this 
proof  is,  so  to  speak,  the  spare  room  in  which  God, 
reduced  to  passivity  in  the  rest  of  his  system,  may 
still  be  decently  housed  and  employed.  The  con- 
formity between  morality  and  happiness,  ^.6.,  action 
and  feeling,  which  this  argument  takes  for  its  start- 
ing-point, exists  in  one  respect  spontaneously  in  the 
inner  consciousness.  That  these  may  be  realized  in 
the  outward  life,  also,  is  a  natural  wish  and  righteons 
endeavour,  but  its  gratification,  at  best  imperfect,  is 
only  attainable  by  an  accurate  conception  of  life 
and  happiness,  not  by  the  postulate  of  a  deus  ex 
macJiind. 


S7. 

Kant,  we  have  said,  after  his  criticism  had  dissi- 
pated the  other  arguments  for  the  existence  of  God, 
as,  according  to  the  precedents  of  older  philosophers 
and  theologians,  they  had  been  formulated  in  the 
systems  of  Wolff  and  Leibnitz,  and  after  he  had 
"Worked  out  his  own  system  (I  allude  to  the  later  one, 
based  upon  his  Critique  of  Pure  Keason,  of  which  the 


136  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New. 

cosmogonic  essay,  to  be  soon  discussed  more  fully, 
does  not  form  a  part),  without  reference  to  the  con- 
ception of  a  personal  deity,  was  loth,  nevertheless, 
entirely  to  miss  the  God  of  his  youth  and  his 
nurture,  and  accordingly  assigned  him  at  least  an 
auxiliary  part  at  a  vacant  place  in  his  system. 

Fichte  set  to  work  after  a  more  radical  fashion 
during  the  first  and  systematic  period  of  his  philo- 
sophic activity.  He  defined  God  as  the  moral 
order  of  the  universe ;  a  definition  partial  indeed, 
like  his  whole  system,  in  which  nature  is  not 
adequately  recognized ;  but  at  the  same  time  he 
repelled  the  conception  of  a  personal  God  with 
arguments  which  will  remain  irrefutable  for  all 
time.  "  You  attribute  personality  and  consciousness 
to  God,"  he  said,  when  accused  of  Atheism  on 
account  of  his  conception  of  God ;  "  but  what,  then, 
do  you  call  personality  and  consciousness  ?  That, 
no  doubt,  wliich  you  have  found  in  ^^ourselves,  be- 
come cognizant  of  in  yourselves,  and  distinguished 
by  that  name.  But  if  you  will  only  give  the 
slightest  attention  to  the  nature  of  your  conception, 
3^ou  will  see  that  you  do  not  and  cannot  conceive  of 
this  v/ithout  limitation  and  finality.  By  attributing 
that  predicate  to  this  Being,  you  in  consequence 
make  of  it  a  finite  one,  a  creature  like  yourselves ; 


Have  We  Still  a  Religion?  137 

you  have  not,  as  was  your  wish,  conceived  God,  but 
merely  the  multiplied  representation  of  yourselves." 
In  his  later  period  of  mysticism,  Fichte  spoke 
much  of  the  Deity  and  the  divine,  but  never  so 
as  to  convey  an  intelligible  conception  of  his 
doctrine  of  the  Deity. 

The  absolute  identity  of  the  real  and  the  ideal, 
the  leading  conception  of  Schelling's  original 
system,  occupied  the  same  standpoint,  as  far  as  we 
are  concerned,  as  the  Substance  of  Spinoza,  with  its 
two  attributes  of  extension  and  thought — i.e.,  it 
afforded  no  possibility  of  conceiving  a  personal 
supernatural  God.  Schelling's  later  philosophy, 
again,  endeavoured  to  demonstrate  this  conception, 
but  in  such  fashion  that  no  scientific  value  is 
accorded  it. 

Lastly,  Hegel,  with  his  proposition  that  every- 
thing depended  as  to  whether  the  substance  were 
conceived  as  subject  or  spirit,  has  bequeatiied  a  riddle 
to  his  expounders  and  a  subterfuge  to  his  adherents. 
One  party  discerned  in  it  simply  tlie  acknowledg- 
ment of  a  personal  God,  while  another  proved  from 
the  more  distinct  utterances  of  the  philosopher,  as 
well  as  from  the  whole  spirit  of  his  system,  that 
all  that  was  intended  to  be  postulated  by  it  was 
that  Becoming  and  Development  were  the  essential 


138  The  Old  Faiih  and  the  New. 

momenta  of  the  Absolute,  and  further,  that  thought, 
that  the  consciousness  of  the  divine  in  man,  were 
the  ideal  existence  of  God,  opposed  to  Nature  as  the 
real  existence. 

Schleiermacher  has  expressed  himself  more  clearly 
and  frankly  than  the  last-named  philosophers  in 
regard  to  this  question — a  fact  which  may  surprise  us 
— but  he  has  only  recourse  to  the  patching-up  sys- 
tem when  he  treats  of  Christianity.  In  his  discour- 
ses on  Christianity,  he  attached  little  importance  to 
the  conception  of  the  Being  on  whom  we  are  abso- 
lutely dependent,  as  personal  or  impersonal;  and 
even  the  suggestive  remarks  of  his  work  "  On 
Beligious  Doctrine"  were  not  of  a  nature  to  dispel 
the  pantheistic  haze  enveloping  his  thought.  In 
his  posthumous  work  on  dialectics  he  has  expressed 
himself  on  this  question  with  all  possible  clearness. 
"The  two  ideas,  God  and  the  universe,"  he  remarks 
in  this  work,  ''are,  on  the  one  hand,  not  identical.  For 
in  conceiving  God  we  postulate  a  unity  7)iiiius  plu- 
rality, in  conceiving  the  universe,  a  plurality  minus 
unity ;  in  other  words,  the  universe  is  the  sum-total 
of  all  opposites,  the  deity,  the  negation  of  all 
opposites.  On  the  other  hand,  however,  neither 
of  these  ideas  can  be  conceived  without  the  other. 
As   soon,  especially,  as  we  endeavour  to  conceive 


Have  We  Still  a  Religion'^  13g 

God  as  existing  before  or  without  the  world,  we 
become  conscious  at  once  that  all  we  have  left 
is  an  unsubstantial  phantasy.  We  are  not  war- 
ranted in  postulating  any  other  relation  between 
God  and  the  world  than  that  of  their  co-existence. 
They  are  not  identical,  nevertheless  they  are  '  only 
two  values  for  the  same  thing.'  At  the  same  time, 
both  ideas  are  only  empty  thoughts — mere  formulae, 
and  no  sooner  do  we  endeavour  to  fill  them  in  and 
quicken  them,  than  we  necessarily  draw  them  down 
into  the  realm  of  the  finite ;  as,  for  example,  when 
we  conceive  of  God  as  a  conscious  absolute  E<j'o." 

Thus  far  Schleiermacher ;  and  we  may  add  that 
in  these  propositions  is  summed  up  the  total  result 
of  modern  philosophy  in  regard  to  the  conception 
of  God.  The  basis  of  this  view  is,  that  in  con- 
ceiving of  the  Esse,  to  retain  Schleiermach er's 
formula,  the  element  of  unity  is  separated  from 
that  of  plurality,  the  one  being  defined  as  the 
determining  cause  of  the  many,  and  by  reason 
of  the  manifestation  of  the  latter  as  an  orderly 
series  of  phenomena,  conscious  intelligence  being 
attributed  to  the  former.  But  as  the  first  concep- 
tion of  the  Esse  can  only  be  that  by  which  it  is 
conceived  as  unity  in  plurality,  and  vice-versd,  the 
idea  of  the  Cosmos  alone   remains   ultimate   and 


140  The  Old  Faith  and  tJie  New, 

supreme.  And  it  follows  that  everything  whicli 
shall  be  recognized  as  motive  power  and  life,  as 
order  and  law,  throughout  the  range  of  the  phy- 
sical and  moral  world,  both  can  and  must  contribute 
to  the  completion  and  enrichment  of  this  concep- 
tion, but  never  shall  we  find  it  possible  to  get  beyond 
it ;  and  if  nevertheless  we  endeavour  to  conceive  of 
a  Creator,  of  the  Cosmos  as  an  absolute  personality, 
the  arguments  just  presented  ought  to  convince 
us  that  we  are  merely  dealing  with  an  idle  phantasy; 

But  here  we  must  recur  to  a  branch  of  our 
enquiry  which  may  be  appropriately  subjoined  to 
the  so-called  moral  argument  for  the  existence  of 
God,  in  the  form  ultimately  given  it  by  Kant. 
This  argument,  as  we  have  seen,  was  obliged,  in 
order  to  attain  its  goal,  to  proceed  a  good  way 
beyond  it,  into  the  domain  of  a  future  life.  With 
this  domain  of  the  so-called  immortality  of  the  soul 
we  must  still  occupy  ourselves  for  a  moment,  as, 
next  to  the  belief  in  God,  that  in  immortality  is 
usually  considered  the  most  essential  part  of 
relio'ion. 

Man  sees  all  living  creatures  around  him,  his 
fellow-creatures  included,  succumb  to  death  ;  he 
knows  that,  sooner  or  later,  the  same  fate  awaits 
himself  also  :  how  happens  it  that,  for  himself  and 


Have  We  Still  a  Religion?  141 

his  kind,  at  least,  lie  does  not  acknowledge  death 
to  be  complete  annihilation  ?  In  the  first  place, 
assuredly,  because  the  survivor  retains  the  concep- 
tion of  the  deceased.  The  image  of  the  departed 
husband  or  child,  of  the  friend  and  companion,  but 
of  the  troublesome  enemy  as  well,  continues  vividly 
present  with  the  surviving  one,  hovers  round  him  in 
his  hours  of  solitude,  and  meets  him  with  delusive 
reality  in  his  dreams.  The  primitive  nature  of  this 
belief  in  immortality  corresponds  to  its  origin.  As 
it  is  but  a  phantasm  of  the  deceased  wliicli  hovers 
round  the  survivor,  and  which,  even  when  appa- 
rently most  tangible,  reveals  itself  as  an  evanescent 
delusion  as  soon  as  the  sleeper  awakes  from  his 
dreams ;  so  in  Homer,  Hades  is  nothing  but 
an  assemblage  of  shades  who  must  quaff  the 
blood  of  victims  ere  they  can  gather  strength  suffi- 
cient for  recollection  and  speech,  and  who,  like  the 
imao^e  of  a  dream,  elude  the  hands  of  the  livino- 
outstretched  towards  them  with  longing  love.  In 
this  earliest  conception  of  a  future  life,  the  leading 
features  of  which  are  the  same  in  tiie  Old  Testament, 
the  reality  lies  entirely  on  the  side  of  the  present 
life.  Man's  true  self  is  his  body,  which  after  death 
has  been  consumed  by  the  flames  of  the  funeral 
pyre,  or  has  mouldered  in  the  grave,  or  has  been 


142  The  Old  Faith  mid  the  New, 

devoured  by  dogs  and  birds  of  prey;  the  soul  which 
survives  it  is  but  an  empty  phantom.  It  follows 
from  this  that  the  existence  after  death  was  so  little 
prized  that,  as  we  know,  the  soul  of  Achilles 
would  rather  have  been  the  most  miserable  hind 
on  earth  than  the  monarch  of  the  universal 
dead ;  and  one  must  needs  have  been  as  plagued 
as  Job  to  wish  to  be  in  the  world  below.  In  an 
existence  of  this  kind  there  could  be  no  question  of 
intrinsic  distinctions, — of  what  we  call  retribution ; 
for  unfortunately  the  dead  are  no  longer  alive ;  and 
although  doubtless,  on  the  one  hand,  we  meet  with 
Tityos  and  his  vultures,  and  Sisyphus  rolling  his 
stone,  and  on  the  other  hand,  although  the  shade  of 
Hercules  is  likewise  in  Hades,  he  himself  is  never- 
theless among  the  circle  of  immortals, — these  are 
only  the  gigantic  creations  of  ancient  legend,  and 
form  no  exception  to  the  common  lot  of  man. 

But  as  the  moral  sentiment  acquired  intensity 
among  mankind,  the  distinction  between  good  and 
evil  which  was  observed  in  life  necessarily  affected 
the  conception  of  man's  condition  after  death. 
The  existence  of  rewards  and  punishments  in  a 
future  world  was  tanght  by  Socrates  among  the 
Greeks,  and  among  the  Jews  by  the  Pharisees  and 
Essenes,  as  well  as  by  the  latest  books  of  the  Old 


Have  We  Still  a  Religion  ?  143 

Testament.  And  by  reason  of  that  spiritualism 
which  had  its  source  in  the  far  East,  and  which, 
chiefly  by  means  of  Plato,  penetrated  into  Greek 
philosophy  and  the  later  Judaism,  and  soon  after- 
wards into  the  Christian  church,  up  to  a  recent 
period  dominating  even  modern  modes  of  thought, 
the  relation  between  this  life  and  the  next  was 
so  completely  reversed,  that,  as  we  have  already 
observed  in  treating  of  the  Christian  religion, 
the  future  life  appeared  as  the  essentially  true  and 
real  one,  the  present  serving  merely  as  its  pre- 
cursive  shadowy  semblance — earth  as  a  miserable 
ante-room  to  heaven. 

The  Homeric  and  Old  Testament  belief  in  a 
realm  of  shades  was  too  much  the  product  of  the 
spontaneous  activity  of  human  phantasy  to  require 
proof,  and  too  little  a  source  of  consolation  to 
deserve  it ;  whereas  the  doctrine  that  the  just 
man  who  is  oppressed  and  miserable  here  shall  be 
rewarded  and  exalted  hereafter,  while  the  evil-doer 
who  feasts  and  revels  now  shall  then  be  duly  pun- 
ished, was  a  doctrine  of  retribution  which  needed  to 
be  firmly  secured  against  possible  doubts.  Nay,  the 
comprehensive  question  must  sooner  or  later  present 
itself,  by  what  right  we  dispute  the  reality  of  the 
apparent  dissolution  of  the  entire  individuality  in 


144  ^^^^  ^^^  Faith  and  the  New, 

death,  and  assume  the  continued  existence  of  a 
portion,  of  whose  existence  our  perceptions  afford 
us  no  evidence  ?  This  supposition  is,  in  fact,  an 
assumption  on  a  colossal  scale,  and  if  we  enquire 
after  its  proofs,  all  we  shall  meet  with  will  be  a 
wish.  Man  would  not  perish  when  he  dies,  there- 
fore he  believes  that  he  shall  not  perish.  This, 
undoubtedly,  is  but  a  sorry  reason,  and  that  is  why 
it  is  bedizened  in  every  possible  way.  Here,  above 
all,  the  idea  of  recompense  is  invoked :  we  have 
not  only  the  wish,  but  in  so  far  as  we  have  been 
jdIous  and  just,  the  right  also,  to  prolong  our  exist- 
ence after  death.  To  fulfil  the  divine  command- 
ments we  not  only  have  here  below  denied  ourselves 
many  pleasures,  but  have  also  taken  upon  ourselves 
much  labour  and  pain,  and  undergone  much  hostihty 
and  persecution  :  shall  not  a  just  God  requite  us 
for  this  in  a  happier  hereafter  ?  And,  on  the  other 
hand,  the  tyrants,  the  tormentors,  the  wicked  and 
vicious  of  all  kinds,  who  escaped  all  punishment 
here,  who  succeeded  in  all  they  undertook, — shall 
they  for  ever  go  scathless  ?  shall  they  not  be  called 
to  account  in  a  future  existence  1  Even  the  Apostle 
Paul,  as  we  know,  believed,  or  fancied  he  believed 
— for  I  deem  him  better  than  his  speech — that  if 
the  dead  rose  not,  then  he  and  men  like  unto  him 


Have  We  Still  a  Religion'^  145 

must  be  fools,  if  tliey  would  not  rather  eat  and 
drink  instead  of  endangering  themselves  for  the 
sake  of  their  convictions.  An  argument  of  this 
sort  might  appear  respectable  at  a  certain  period ; 
but  only  in  one  which  stood  still  very  low  in  the 
deeper  moral  conception  of  life.  '"'  He  who  still 
cares  to  assert,"  I  have  remarked  already  in  my 
Glaubenslehre,  "that  the  good  are  so  often  afflicted 
in  this  life,  while  the  wicked  prosper,  that  therefore 
an  adjustment  is  requisite  in  a  future  state,  only 
shows  thereby  that  he  has  not  yet  learnt  to  distin- 
guish between  the  external  and  internal,  between 
appearances  and  reality.  He,  likewise,  who  still 
needs  the  expectation  of  a  future  recompense  as  a 
spring  of  action,  stands  in  the  outer  court  of  morality, 
and  let  him  take  heed  lest  he  fall  For  supposing 
that  in  the  course  of  his  life  this  belief  is  over- 
thrown by  doubt,  what  then  becomes  of  his  morality  ? 
Nay,  how  will  it  fare  with  the  latter,  even  in  the 
case  of  the  former  remaining  unshaken  ?  He  who 
does  good  in  view  of  future  beatitude,  acts,  after 
all,  only  from  selfish  motives."  "It  is  the  notion 
of  the  vulgar  herd,"  says  Spinoza,  "  to  regard  the 
service  of  the  desires  as  freedom,  and  life  according 
to  reason  as  entitling  the  pious  bondsman,  on  his 
release,  to  an  anodyne  of  future  bliss.  Beatitude  is 
VOL.   I.  L 


1 46  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New. 

not  a  reward  distinct  from  virtue,  but  virtue  herself; 
it  is  not  the  consequence  of  our  empire  over  our 
desires ;  rather  is  this  empire  itself  a  fruit  of  the 
beatitude  we  enjoy  in  the  knowledge  and  the  love 
of  God." 

88. 
Goethe  observed  to  Eckermann  three  years  before 
his  death,  "  The  conviction  of  continuous  existence 
suggests  itself  to  me  from  the  conception  of  activity; 
for  if  I  am  unceasingly  active  to  my  very  end, 
nature  is  bound  to  assign  to  me  another  form  of 
being,  if  the  present  one  is  no  longer  capable  of 
fulfilling  the  requirements  of  my  spirit."  Doubtless 
a  grand  and  a  beautiful  utterance,  as  pregnant  with 
the  force  of  subjective  truth  on  the  lips  of  the  hoar 
old  poet,  indefatigably  active  to  his  dying  day,  as  it 
is  entirely  devoid  of  all  objective  cogency.  "  Nature 
is  bound  " — what  is  the  meaning  of  that  ?  Goethe,  if 
any  one,  knew  that  Nature  acknowledges  no  duties 
— only  laws ;  but  that  man  rather,  even  the  most 
gifted  and  energetic,  has  the  duty  of  humbl}^  sub- 
mitting to  them.  "What  Nature  did  owe  him  for 
his  restless  activity,  that  is,  what  ensued  from  it 
according  to  the  laws  of  Nature,  Goethe  had  fully 
enjoyed  during  his  lifetime,  in  the  healthy  sense  of 


Have  We  Si  ill  a  Religion'^  147 

his  power,  in  the  delight  of  progress  and  self-per- 
fection, in  the  recognition  and  reverence  accorded  to 
him  by  all  the  noble  spirits  among  his  contemporaries. 
To  demand  more  than  this  was  a  weakness  of  old 
age,  and  its  character  as  such  was  revealed  by  the 
care  with  which,  during  those  latter  years,  he 
avoided  all  mention  of  death.  For  if  he  felt  certain 
that,  in  case  of  his  death,  Nature  would  fulfil  her 
duties  towards  him,  then  why  this  shrinking  from 
the  name  ? 

Goethe's  argument  in  favour  of  immortality 
is  moreover  only  a  special,  I  might  say  the  heroic, 
form  of  one  frequently  proposed  in  another  shape. 
The  destiny  of  man,  it  is  argued,  is  the  development 
of  all  his  faculties ;  but  this  is  attained  by  none  in 
the  present  life  ;  which,  therefore,  must  be  followed 
by  another  existence  admitting  of  it.  Of  course  we 
naturally  enquire  how  this  alleged  destiny  of  man  has 
been  ascertained.  Do  we,  then,  on  the  whole,  observe 
that  Nature  is  contrived  to  afford  full  development 
to  every  faculty,  every  germ  ?  He  who  would  say 
so  can  never  in  the  summer  have  walked  in  an 
orchard,  where  the  whole  ground  is  often  strewn 
with  small  apples  and  pears,  fallen  ere  they  were 
ripe,  yet  each  of  them  containing  the  possibility  of 
more  tjian  one  tree  ;  can  never  have  read  in  a  book 


148  The  Old  Faith  and  the  Akiv. 

of  natural  histoiy,  that  if  the  spawn  invaiiahly 
attained  full  growth,  all  the  rivers  and  seas  would 
no  longer  suffice  to  lodo-e  the  swarminsj  shoals. 
Experience,  therefore,  teaches  the  exact  opposite  in 
regard  to  Nature  :  that  she  lavishly  scatters  germs 
and  capacities,  leaving  it  to  their  inherent  soundness 
how  many  of  them,  in  the  struggle  with  each  othei- 
and  surrounding  circumstances,  shall  attain  develop- 
ment and  maturity.  Neither,  as  may  be  supposed, 
are  those  reasoners  anxious  about  Nature  in  treneral; 
they  would  only  provide  for  man,  i.e.,  for  them- 
selves. To  this  end,  they  must  prove  that  Nature 
makes  an  exception  with  man  in  regard  to  his 
capacities.  But  even  here  experience  fails  to  render 
them  the  smallest  service.  We  cannot  even  assert 
that  it  militates  against  our  experience  for  a  man  to 
attain  to  the  full  development  of  his  capacities  in 
this  life.     We  shall  be  forced  to  acknowledo-e  that 

o 

most  of  the  old  people  known  to  us  are  complete ; 
that  they  have  yielded  up  all  they  had  to  bestow. 
Nay,  even  of  a  Goethe  we  must  concede  that,  in 
spite  of  his  activity  up  to  the  last,  in  his  eighty- 
two  years  he  had  lived  out  his  life.  Schiller,  it  is 
true,  had  not  done  so  in  the  forty-five  years  allotted 
liim  ;  he  died  in  the  midst  of  the  grandest  projects, 
which,  had  a  lonoer  life  enabled  him  to  cy;ecute 


Have  We  Slill  a  Religion?  149 

them,  would  have  enriched  the  roll  of  the  creations 
of  his  genius.  Thus  we  should  even  arrive  at  the 
conclusion  that  an  existence  after  death  must  be 
demanded  for  Schiller  which  would  have  to  be 
renounced  in  the  case  of  Goethe ;  or  in  more  general 
terms,  that  only  he  who  should  happen  to  die  in 
the  full  flower  of  this  life  would  be  entitled  to 
claim  a  life  hereafter — not  by  any  means  a  life 
extending  interminably,  but  only  to  the  extent  of 
affording  each  individual  an  opportunity  of  de- 
veloping his  capacities  to  the  full. 

This  distinction,  as  well  as  this  indefiniteness  of 
duration,  too  clearly  characterize  the  gratuitous  and 
visionary  nature  of  the  speculation,  which  sur})asses 
itself  by  asserting  that  the  capacity  inherent  in 
every  human  soul  is  infinite  and  inexhaustible,  and 
only  to  be  completely  realized  in  eternity.  Such 
an  assertion  is  obviously  incapable  of  proof:  it  is  a 
mere  vaunt,  which  is  confuted  by  the  consciousness 
of  every  modest,  candid  mind.  He  who  does  not 
inflate  himself  is  well  aware  of  the  humble  measure 
of  his  capacities,  and  while  grateful  for  the  time 
allowed  him  for  their  development,  makes  no  claim 
for  its  prolongation  beyond  the  duration  of  this 
earthly  life ;  nay,  its  eternal  persistence  would  fill 
him  with  dismay. 


1 50  The  Old  Faith  and  ike  A^ew, 

But  now  the  belief  in  immortality  withdraws  to 
its  central  citadel,  and  while  putting  the  expecta- 
tion of  retribution  or  complete  development  on  one 
side,  it  lays  its  full  stress  on  the  essence  of  the 
human  soul.  No  matter  to  what  end  the  soul  may 
exist  after  death,  exist  it  must,  because  it  cannot 
die.  Man's  body  is  material,  extended,  and  compo- 
site— susceptible,  in  consequence,  of  dissolution  and 
destruction.  But  the  soul  is  immaterial  and  simple — 
exempt,  therefore,  from  dissolution  and  death.  This 
was  the  ancient  psychology,  already  exploded  by 
Kant.  All  those  alleged  properties  of  the  soul, 
whence  its  immortality  is  deduced,  are  most  arbi- 
trarily attributed  to  it.  ^Ye  have  learnt,  from  closer 
observations  in  the  domain  of  physiology  and 
psychology,  that  the  body  and  soul,  even  if  we 
continue  to  distinguish  between  them  as  two  separate 
essences,  are  nevertheless  so  nearly  united,  the  so- 
called  soul  so  entirely  conditioned  b}^  the  nature  and 
circumstances  of  its  material  organ,  the  brain,  that 
its  continuance  is  unimaginable  without  it.  The 
so-called  spiritual  functions  develope,  grow,  and 
gain  strength  along  with  the  body,  especially  with 
their  distinctive  organ,  the  brain,  decline  in  sym- 
pathy with  it  in  old  age,  and  suffer  corresponding 
disorders  in  case  of  cerebral  affections — in  such  wise. 


Have  We  Still  a  Religion  ?  151 

moreover,  that  the  derangement  of  certain  mental 
functions  corresponds  to  that  of  certain  parts  of 
the  brain.  But  a  thing  so  closely  and  completely 
bound  to  a  ph^^sical  organism  can  as  little  exist  after 
the  latter's  destruction  as  the  centre  of  a  circle  after 
the  dissolution  of  the  circumference. 

When  it  comes  to  a  question  of  the  existence  of 
living   beings,   and,   moreover,  of  many  thousand 
millions   of   such    beings,   it    is    indispensable    to 
enquire   after   the   place    where  such   beings — we 
allude  to  the  souls  of  the  departed — are  to  be  dis- 
})Osed  of.     Ancient  Christianity  was  at  no  loss  how 
to  answer  such  a  question,  having  abundant  space 
at  its  command  for  the  elect  in  heaven  beyond  the 
starry  firmament —  for  the  damned  in  hell  deep  under 
the  earth.     For  us,  as  we  have  seen  already,  that 
heavenly  space  has  vanished  from  around  the  throne 
of  God ;  while  the  space  in  the  interior  of  our  globe 
is  so  completely  filled   with   terrestrial  matter   of 
various  kinds,  that  for  hell  also  we  have  no  locality 
to  spare.     But  the  persistent  faith  in  immortality 
has  striven   to  gain   a  new   advantage   from   our 
modem  Cosmic  conception.     If  we  no  longer  possess 
a  Christian  heaven,  we  have  in  its  stead  an  innu- 
merable multitude  of  stars ;  and  on  these  surely  there 
is  space  and  to  spare  for  more  multitudinous  hosts 


152  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New. 

of  departed  spirits  than  our  earth  is  aljle  to  furnish. 
These  heavenly  bodies  are  also  apparently  of  such  va- 
rious formations,  the  circumstances  of  their  material 
constitution,  the  modes  by  which  light  and  heat  are 
imparted  to  them,  are  so  manifold,  that  some  of  them 
may  plausibly  be  regarded  as  paradises,  others  as 
hells.  But  then,  if  the  conditions  requisite  to  the 
existence  of  rational  beings  are  fulfilled  on  other 
lieavenly  bodies,  they  will  arise  there  as  they  have 
arisen  on  our  earth ;  our  colonies  of  souls,  therefore, 
arriving  there  as  emigrants  from  this  world,  would 
find  the  ground  alread}^  occupied.  Of  course 
we  shall  and  must  be  reminded  that  immaterial 
essences  are  in  question,  whose  existence  after 
death  is  demonstrated  by  the  very  fact  of  their 
incomposite  constitution  and  inability  to  occupy 
space,  and  that  therefore  they  will  not  be  circum- 
scribed by  the  indigenous  inhabitants  of  other 
heavenly  bodies.  But  in  that  case  they  might 
as  well  have  remained  on  the  earth;  or  rather,  they 
stand  in  no  relation  whatever  to  space,  are  every- 
where and  nowhere,  in  short,  not  real,  but  imaginary 
beings.  For  in  that  respect  the  remark  of  a  some- 
what crazy  but  all  the  more  ingenious  father  of 
the  church  has  become  the  principle  of  modern 
science  :  "  Nauoht  is  immaterial  but  what  is  nauo-ht.'* 


Have  We  Still  a  Religmi'i  153 

.39. 

If  the  preceding  consideration  lias  conducted  us 
to  the  conclusion  that  we  can  no  longer  either  hold 
the  idea  of  a  personal  God,  or  of  life  after  death, 
then  it  would  seem  that  the  question  with  which 
we  have  prefaced  this  section — if  we  still  have  a 
reliofion? — must  be  answered  in  the  neorative.  For 
religion,  according  to  the  accepted  idea,  consists  in 
the  recognition  and  veneration  of  God,  and  the 
belief  in  a  future  life,  a  purified  residuum  of  the 
older  Christian  faith  in  the  resurrection,  which,  since 
the  era  of  rationalism,  has  taken  its  place  next  to 
the  belief  in  God,  as  an  essential  attribute  of  it. 
But  this  very  conception  of  the  idea  of  religion  has 
in  our  time,  and  not  without  cause,  been  judged 
inadequate.  We  know  that  there  is  no  religion 
which  has  not  the  conception  and  worship  of  divine 
beings  (for  even  in  the  originally  godless  Buddhism 
they  soon  got  in  by  the  back  door) ;  but  we  wish 
also  to  know  how  religion  came  by  this  conception. 
The  right  definition  is  only  that  by  which  we  do 
not  merely  get  at  the  thing,  but  behind  it. 

It  was  Schleiermacher,  as  we  know,  who  sought 
to  satisfy  this  requirement  in  respect  of  religion. 
"  That,''  he  said,  "which  the  most  varying  expressions 


154  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New, 

of  piety  have  in  common :  the  essence  of  religion,  in 
conseq^uence,  consists  in  our  consciousness  of  absolute 
dependence,  and  the  Whereon  of  this  dependence — 
'i.e.,  that  on  which  we  feel  ourselves  to  be  dependent 
in  this  manner — we  call  God.  The  reason  why,  in 
the  earlier  stages  of  religion,  there  appear  many 
instead  of  this  single  Whereon,  a  plurality  of  gods 
instead  of  the  one,  is  explained  in  this  deduction  of 
relisfion,  from  the  fact  that  the  various  forces  of 
nature,  or  relations  of  life,  wdiicli  inspire  man  with 
the  sentiment  of  unqualified  dependence,  still  act 
upon  him  in  the  commencement  with  the  full  force 
of  their  distinctive  characteristics ;  that  he  has  not 
as  yet  become  conscious  how,  in  regard  to  his  unmiti- 
gated dependence  upon  them,  there  is  no  distinction 
between  them,  and  that  therefore  the  Whereon  of 
this  dependence,  or  the  Being  to  which  it  conducts 
in  the  last  instance,  can  only  be  one." 

If  we  compare  this  explanation  with  what  it  is 
meant  to  explain,  with  the  phenomena  of  religion 
in  its  various  stages,  we  must  at  first  accord  it  our 
assent.  Man  woi-ships  the  sun,  the  spring,  the 
stream,  because  he  feels  his  whole  existence  depen- 
dent on  the  light  and  the  warmth  which  proceed 
from  the  first,  on  the  freshness  and  fertility  caused 
by  the  latter.     Upon  a  being  like  Zeus,  who^  besides 


Have  We  SHU  a  Relio 


ion 


155 


thunder  and  lightning  and  rain,  governs  the 
state  and  its  institutions,  the  law  and  its  maxims, 
man  feels  a  twofold,  a  moral  as  well  as  a  physical, 
dependence.  Even  upon  an  evil  being,  like  fever,  if 
he  strives  to  mollify  it  by  religious  worship,  he  feels 
himself  thoroughly  dependent,  inasmuch  as  he  is 
persuaded  that  he  cannot  resist  it  unless  it  will 
desist  of  its  own  accord.  But  then,  to  persuade  it 
to  desist  of  itself,  and  generally  to  gain  an  influence 
on  the  Powers  upon  which  he  knows  himself  to  be 
dependent,  is  the  motive  of  worship,  nay,  is,  as 
we  have  already  seen,  the  secret  motive  of  man's 
representing  those  Powers  as  personal,  as  beings 
similar  bo  himself. 

To  this  extent,  Feuerbach  is  right  when  he  de- 
clares the  origin,  nay,  the  true  essence  of  religion,  to 
be  the  wish.  Had  man  no  wish  he  would  have  no 
god.  What  man  would  have  liked  to  be,  but  was 
not,  he  made  his  god ;  Avhat  he  would  like  to  ha\'c, 
but  could  not  get  for  himself,  his  god  was  to  get  for 
him.  It  is  therefore  not  merely  the  dependence  m 
which  man  finds  himself,  but  at  the  same  time  the 
need  to  react  against  it,  to  regain  his  freedom  in 
regard  to  it,  whence  man  draws  his  religion.  Abso- 
lute, unmitigated  dependence  would  crush,  annilii- 
late  him ;  he  must  be  able  to  defend  himself  aoainst 


156  The  Old  Faith  and  the  N'av. 

it, — must,  under  the  weight  which  presses  on  him 
seek  to  win  for  himself  both  air  and  elbow-room. 


40. 

The  normal  way  which  is  prescribed  to  man  as 
that  which  shall  liberate  him  in  respect  to  Nature, 
on  whom  he  in  the  first  instance  finds  himself 
dependent,  is  that  of  work,  of  culture,  of  invention. 
A  real,  thorough  satisfaction  here  greets  his  wishes: 
many  of  the  attributes  which  man  in  former 
times  ascribed  to  his  gods — I  will  only  mention 
as  an  example  our  rapid  mode  of  locomotion — he 
himself  has  now  acquired  in  consequence  of  his 
rational  sway  over  Nature.  But  it  has  been  a  long, 
a  fatiguing  way,  the  goal  of  which  could  not  even 
be  foreshadowed  by  man  thousands  of  years  back. 
Ere  he  had  learnt  to  master  disease  by  natural  means, 
he  was  forced  either  to  resign  himself  helplessly  to 
it,  or  to  seek  to  subdue  it  by  the  aid  of  a  Fetish,  a 
Daemon,  or  a  god.  And  a  remnant  yet  subsists:  even 
at  the  goal  of  our  rational  route  we  cannot  strike 
the  balance  of  our  sum.  However  num^erous  the 
maladies  which  medicine  will  heal,  some  neverthe- 
less resist  all  appHances ;  and  no  herb  will  cure 
death.  However  great  the  triumphs  of  agricul- 
ture  in   respect  to  Nature    may  be,   it  must  still 


Have  We  Si  ill  a  Religion  ?  15^ 

acknowledge  itself  defenceless  against  frost  and 
hail,  excess  of  rain,  or  drought.  Here  is  space  and 
to  spare  for  wishes,  processions,  masses.  Or,  take 
we  a  step  higher  in  religion:  notwithstanding  all 
his  efforts,  all  his  straggles  with  the  sensuousness 
and  selfishness  of  his  nature,  man  never  suffices 
to  his  own  ethical  aspirations ;  he  longs  for  a 
purity,  a  perfection,  which  he  is  at  a  loss  to 
procure  for  himself,  which  he  may  hope  to  attain 
only  through  the  blood  of  the  Redeemer,  by  the 
vicarious  transfer  of  another's  righteousness  to 
himself  b}^  means  of  faith. 

If  we  regard  the  matter  thus,  it  certainly  cannot 
be  disguised  that  the  rational,  secular,  or  (as  far  as 
man's  efforts  concern  his  own  nature)  tlie  moral 
way,  is  the  only  one  which  will  lead  him  to  the 
desired  goal ;  while  the  religious  way,  on  the  other 
hand,  is  but  a  pleasant  delusion.  Herein  lies  the 
contrast  between  Feuerbach's  and  Schleiermacher's 
views  of  religioD,  although  both  proceed  from  the 
same  starting-point.  With  the  latter,  religion  is 
the  sentiment  of  unmitigated  dependence ;  and 
as  this  is  an  undeniably  correct  sentiment  of 
man's  position  in  the  universe,  religion  must 
also  be  a  truth.  Feuerbach  also  recognizes  this 
sentiment   of    dependence   as    the   original   source 


158  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New. 

of  religion ;  but,  in  order  to  actually  call  it  forth, 
the  wish  must  be  superadded,  to  give  to  this  de- 
pendence, by  the  shortest  cut,  a  turn  favourable  to 
man.  This  wish,  this  endeavour,  is  also  thoroughly 
justifiable ;  but  the  delusion  lies  in  this  shortest 
cut  by  which  it  would  reach  the  goal — by  prayer, 
sacrifice,  faith,  etc.,  etc. ;  and  because  this  shortest 
cut  is  the  distinctive  feature  of  every  religion  hith- 
erto, religion  itself  must  from  this  point  of  view 
appear  as  a  delusion,  to  abolish  which  ought  to  be 
the  endeavour  of  every  man  whose  eyes  are  open  to 
the  truth. 

At  this  point  the  estimate  of  religion,  with 
which  we  started  at  the  beginning  of  this  sec- 
tion, turns  to  its  precise  opposite.  Instead  of  a 
prerogative  of  human  nature,  it  appears  as  a 
weakness,  which  adhered  to  mankind  chiefly  dur- 
ing tlie  period  of  childhood,  but  which  man- 
kind must  outgrow  on  attaining  maturity.  The 
Middle  Ages  were  more  religious  than  ours  in 
j)roportion  to  their  greater  ignorance  and  barbar- 
ism ;  and  at  present  the  same  difference  exists, 
for  example,  between  Spain  and  Germany,  or  in 
Germany  between  T^^rol  and  Saxony.  Religion 
and  civilization  accordingly  occupy  not  an  equal 
but  an  inverted  position  in  regard  to  each   other, 


Have   We  Still  a  Religion  ?  159 

so  that  witli  the  progress  of  the  latter  the  former 
retreats. 

Two  objections  may  be  opposed  here.  In  the  first 
a  distinction  is  made  between  true  and  false  relio-ion, 
between  superstition  and  true  piety ;  and  in  like 
manner  we  may  distinguish  between  true  and  false 
culture  or  enlightenment.  In  this  respect  we  may 
say  the  Middle  Ages  were  more  superstitious,  not 
more  truly  pious,  than  our  era ;  and  if  culture  in 
our  era  has  really  damaged  piety,  then  it  must  have 
been  a  false  superficial  culture. 

But  this  explanation  is  not  sufficient.  In  order 
to  treat  the  matter  more  accurately,  we  must 
distinguish  between  religion  and  religiousness,  or 
between  religion  in  the  senses  of  extension  and 
of  intensity.  Thus  it  may  be  said  the  Middle 
Ages  believed  more,  had  richer  materials  ot  belief 
than  our  era;  but  were  not,  on  that  account,  more 
intensely  pious.  Admitting  this  for  a  moment, 
the  Middle  Ages  possessed  not  only  a  greater 
number  of  articles  of  belief,  but  also  more  of  the 
religious  momenta  in  the  life  of  man,  in  regard  to 
society  and  the  individual;  in  the  daily  life  of  a 
mediseval  Christian,  the  religious  element — such  as 
prayer,  making  the  sign  of  the  cross,  going  to  mass, 
etc. — manifested  itself  much  more  frequently  and 


i6o  TJie  Old  Faith  and  the  New. 

uninterruptedly  than  in  the  life  of  a  modern  Chris- 
tian. And  this,  after  all,  is  hand  in  hand  with  that 
other  clement  of  piety,  the  intensive.  ISTow-a-days 
we  find  neither  so  many  virtuosos  in  piety,  such 
as  were  then  more  especially  resident  in  convents, 
nor  such  exalted  individual  masters  as  a  St.  Ber- 
nard, or  St.  Francis,  and,  at  a  later  period,  even  a 
Luther.  Beside  these,  our  Schleiermachers,  our  I^e- 
anders,  make  a  very  worldly  figure. 

The  reason  of  this,  in  the  first  place,  lies  in 
the  fact  that,  as  we  have  seen,  a  multiplicity  of 
phenomena  which  stirred  the  religious  sentiment 
of  man  on  lower  stages  of  civilization,  are  now 
understood  in  their  orderly  natural  sequence,  and 
therefore  no  longer  immediately  appeal  to  the  pious 
sentiment,  but  only  continue  doing  so  mediately 
and  feebly.  The  other  and  the  principal  reason  of  the 
retrogTCssion  of  religion  in  our  time,  we  have  already 
discovered  in  the  present  enquiry.  It  lies  in  the 
circumstance  that  we  are  no  longer  able  to  form  so 
lively  a  conception  of  the  personality  of  the  abso- 
lute Being  as  did  our  predecessors.  It  cannot 
be  otherwise ;  although  up  to  a  certain  point 
religion  and  civilization  may  go  hand  in  hand, 
this  nevertheless  happens  only  so  long  as  the 
civilization    of    nations     manifests     itself    in    the 


Have  We  SHU  a  Religion?  i6t 

shape  of  imagination ;  as  soon  as  it  comes  to  be 
a  culture  of  the  reasoning  faculties,  and  more  espe- 
cially as  soon  it  is  manifested  through  observation 
of  Nature  and  her  laws,  an  opposition  gradually 
develops  itseK  which  circumscribes  religion  more 
and  more.  The  religious  domain  in  the  human 
soul  resembles  the  domain  of  the  Red  Indians  in 
America,  which,  however  much  we  may  deplore  or 
deprecate  it,  is,  year  after  year,  reduced  into  con- 
stantly narrowing  limits  by  their  white  neighbours. 

41. 

But  limitation — even  transmutation — is  still  by 
no  means  annihilation.  Relio;ion  with  us  is  no  longer 
what  it  was  with  our  fathers;  but  it  does  not  follow 
that  it  is  extinct  in  us. 

At  all  events  we  have  retained  the  essential  ingre- 
dient of  all  religion — the  sentiment  of  unconditional 
dependence.  Whether  we  say  God  or  Cosmos,  we  feel 
our  relation  to  the  one,  as  to  the  other,  to  be  one  of 
absolute  dependence.  Even  as  regards  the  latter,  we 
know  ourselves  as  "part  of  apart,"  our  mightasnought 
in  comparison  to  the  almightiness  of  Nature,  our 
thought  only  capable  of  slowly  and  laboriously  com- 
prehending the  least  part  of  that  which  the  universe 
offers  to  our  contemplation  as  the  object  of  knowledge. 

VOL.   I.  M 


1 62  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New, 

But  tills  very  knowledge,  however  restricted  it 
be,  leads  us  to  yet  another  result.  We  perceive  a 
perpetual  change  in  the  world ;  soon,  however,  w^e 
discover  in  this  change  something  unchanging — 
order,  and  law.  We  perceive  in  Nature  tremendous 
contrasts,  awful  struggles;  but  we  discover  that 
these  do  not  disturb  the  stability  and  harmony  of 
the  whole — that  they,  on  the  contrary,  preserve  it. 
We  further  perceive  a  gradation,  a  development  of 
the  higher  from  the  lower,  of  the  refined  from  the 
coarse,  of  the  gentle  from  the  rude.  And  in  our- 
selves we  make  the  experience  that  we  are  advanced 
in  our  personal  as  well  as  our  social  life,  just  so  far 
as  we  succeed  in  regulating  tlie  element  of  capri- 
cious cliange  within  and  around  us,  and  in  devel- 
oping the  higher  from  the  lower,  the  delicate  from 
the  rugged. 

This,  when  we  meet  with  it  within  the  circle  of 
human  life,  we  call  good  and  reasonable.  What  is 
analogous  to  it  in  the  world  around  us,  w^e  cannot 
avoid  calling  so  likewise.  And  moreover,  as  we 
feel  ourselves  absolutely  dependent  on  this  world, 
as  we  can  only  deduce  our  existence  and  the  adjust- 
ment of  our  nature  from  it,  we  are  compelled  to 
conceive  of  it  in  its  fullest  sense,  or  as  Cosmos,  as 
being  also  the  primary  source  of  all  that  is  reason- 


Have  We  Still  a  Religion  9  163 

able  and  good.  The  argument  of  the  old  rehgion  was, 
that  as  the  reasonable  and  good  in  mankind  pro- 
ceeded from  consciousness  and  will,  that  therefore 
what  on  a  large  scale  corresponds  to  this  in  tlie 
world  mast  likewise  proceed  from  an  author  endowed 
with  intelligent  volition.  We  have  given  up  this 
mode  of  inference ;  we  no  longer  regard  the  Cosmos 
as  the  work  of  a  reasonable  and  good  creator,  but 
rather  as  the  laboratory  of  the  reasonable  and  good. 
We  consider  it  not  as  planned  by  the  highest 
reason,  but  plannedfor  the  highest  reason.  Of  course,  ^-^^^  t^ 
in  this  case,  we  must  place  in  the  cause  what  lies  in 
the  effect ;  that  which  comes  out  must  have  been  in. 
But  it  is  only  the  limitation  of  our  human  faculty 
of  representation  which  forces  us  to  make  these 
distinctions :  the  Cosmos  is  simultaneously  both 
cause  and  effect,  the  outward  and  the  inward 
together. 

We  stand  here  at  the  limits  of  our  knowledge ; 
we  gaze  into  an  abyss  we  can  fathom  no  farther. 
But  this  much  at  least  is  certain, — that  the  personal 
image  which  meets  our  gaze,  there  is  but  a  reflec- 
tion of  the  wondering  spectator  himself.  If  we 
always  bore  this  in  mind,  there  would  be  as  little 
objection  to  the  expression — "  Gocl,"  as  to  that  of 
the   rising  and   the  setting  of  the  sun,  where  we 


1 64  TJie  Old  Fait  J i  and  the  Neiv. 

are  all  the  time  quite  conscious  of  the  actual  cir- 
cumstances. But  this  condition  is  not  fulfilled. 
Even  the  conception  of  the  Absolute,  to  which  our 
modern  philosophy  is  so  partial,  easily  tends  again 
to  assume  some  kind  of  personality.  We,  in  conse- 
quence, prefer  the  designation  of  the  All,  or  the 
Cosmos,  not  overlooking,  however,  that  this  again 
runs  the  danger  of  leading  us  to  think  of  the  sum- 
total  of  phenomena  instead  of  the  one  essence  of 
forces  and  laws  which  manifest  and  fulfil  themselves. 
But  we  would  rather  say  too  little  than  too  much. 

At  any  rate,  that  on  which  we  feel  ourselves 
entirely  dependent,  is  by  no  means  merely  a  rude 
power  to  which  we  bow  in  mute  resignation,  but 
is  at  the  same  time  both  order  and  law,  reason  and 
goodness,  to  Avhich  we  surrender  ourselves  in  loving 
trust.  More  than  this  :  as  we  perceive  in  ourselves 
the  same  disposition  to  the  reasonable  and  the  good 
which  we  seem  to  recognize  in  the  Cosmos,  and  find 
ourselves  to  be  the  beings  by  whom  it  is  felt  and 
recognized,  in  whom  it  is  to  become  personified,  we 
also  feel  ourselves  related  in  our  inmost  nature  to 
that  on  which  we  are  dependent,  we  discover  our- 
selves at  the  same  time  to  be  free  in  this  dependence ; 
and  pride  and  humility,  joy  and  submission,  inter- 
mingle in  our  feeling  for  the  Cosmos. 


Have  We  Still  a  Religion  ?  165 

True,  a  feeling  of  this  kind  will  hardly  produce 
a  form  of  worship,  hardly  manifest  itself  in  a  series 
of  festivals.  Nevertheless,  it  will  not  fail  of  moral 
influence,  as  we  shall  find  in  its  due  place.  And 
why  no  longer  a  form  of  worship  ?  Because  we 
have  freed  ourselves  from  that  other  constituent  of 
religion,  ignoble  and  untrue  in  comparison  with  the 
sentiment  of  dependence — the  desire  and  expectation 
of  obtaining  something  from  God  by  our  worship. 
We  need  but  take  the  expression  "divine  service," 
and  realize  the  low  anthropopathism  which  it 
involves,  in  order  to  perceive  the  why  and  where- 
fore of  nothing  of  this  kind  being  any  longer  possible 
from  our  point  of  view. 

But  what  we  have  found  to  remain  to  us  will  not 
be  suffered  to  pass  as  religion.  If  we  would  knoAv 
whether  there  be  still  any  life  in  an  organism  which 
appears  dead  to  ns,  we  are  wont  to  test  it  by  some 
violent  or  even  painful  shock,  as  by  stabbing  it  for 
instance.  Let  us  try  this  experiment  in  regard  to 
our  feeling  for  the  Cosmos.  We  need  only  turn 
over  the  leaves  of  Arthur  Schopenhauer's  works 
(although  we  shall  on  many  other  accounts  do  well 
not  only  to  glance  over  but  to  study  them),  in  order 
to  come  upon  the  proposition,  variously  expressed, 
that   the   Cosmos   is   somethino-   which  had  much 


1 66  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New, 

better  not  have  existed.  Or,  as  the  author  of  the 
"Philosophy  of  the  Unconscious"  (E.  von  Hartmann) 
hasexpressed  it  in  his  manner,  with  a  still  finer  point, 
that  although  in  the  existing  universe  everything 
be  ordained  as  well  as  was  possible,  that  it  never- 
theless is  "miserable  throughout,  and  " — the  opposite 
of  that  which  we  are  wont  to  say  jocularly  about 
the  weather — "worse- than  no  universe  at  all,"  Ac- 
cording to  Schopenhauer,  therefore,  the  fundamental 
distinction  between  all  religions  and  systems  of 
philosophy  consists  in  their  optimist  or  pessimist 
character;  and,  moreover,  he  regards  Optimism 
throughout  as  the  standpoint  of  dulness  and  trivi- 
ality, while  all  the  more  profound  and  distinguished 
spirits  occupy,  like  himself,  the  standpoint  of  Pes- 
simism. After  an  especially  vehement  outburst  of  this 
kind  (that  it  would  be  better  if  no  life  had  arisen 
on  the  earth  any  more  than  on  the  moon — that  her 
surface  had  remained  equally  rigid  and  crystalline), 
Schopenhauer  adds  that  now  he  would  probably  again 
have  to  hear  of  the  melancholy  of  his  philosophy. 
Certainly,  if  we  may  take  it  in  the  sense  that  its 
author,  in  formulating  such  propositions,  was 
melancholy -mad.  In  truth,  they  involve  the  most 
glaring  contradiction.  If  the  universe  is  a  thing 
which  had  better  not  have  existed,  then  surely  the 


Havz  We  Sil II a  Religion?  167 

speculation  of  tlie  philosopher,  as  forming  part  of 
this  universe,  is  a  speculation  which  had  better  not 
have  speculated.  The  pessimist  philosopher  fails 
to  perceive  how  he,  above  all,  declares  his  own 
thought,  which  declares  the  world  to  be  bad,  as 
bad  also;  but  if  the  thought  which  declares  the 
world  to  be  bad  is  a  bad  thought,  then  it  follows 
naturally  that  the  world  is  good.  As  a  rule, 
Optimism  may  take  things  too  easily.  Schopen- 
hauer's references  to  the  colossal  part  which  sorrow 
and  evil  play  in  the  world  are  quite  in  their  right 
place  as  a  counterpoise ;  but  every  true  philosophy 
is  necessarily  optimistic,  as  otherwise  she  hews 
down  the  branch  on  which  she  herself  is  sittinor. 

o 

But  this  was  a  digression ;  for  we  wished  to  dis- 
cover whether  our  standpoint,  whose  highest  idea  is 
the  law-governed  Cosmos,  full  of  life  and  reason,  can 
still  be  called  a  religious  one ;  and  to  this  end  we 
opened  Schopenhauer,  who  takes  every  occasion 
to  scout  this  our  idea.  Sallies  of  this  kind,  as  we 
remarked,  impress  our  intelligence  as  absurd,  but  our 
feeling  as  blasphemous.  We  consider  it  arrogant  and 
profane  on  the  part  of  a  single  individual  to  oppose 
himself  with  such  audacious  levity  to  the  Cosmos, 
whence  he  springs,  from  which,  also,  he  derives  that 
spark  of  reason  which  he  misuses.     We  recognize  in 


l68  The  Old  Faith  and  the  Nezv. 

this  a  repudiation  of  the  sentiment  of  dependence 
which  we  expect  from  every  man.  We  demand  the 
same  piety  for  onr  Cosmos  that  the  devout  man  of 
old  demanded  for  his  God.  If  wounded,  our  feeling 
for  the  Cosmos  simply  reacts  in  a  religious  manner. 
Finally,  therefore,  if  we  are  asked  whether  we  still 
have  a  religion,  our  answer  will  not  be  as  roundly 
negative  as  in  the  former  case,  but  we  shall  say 
Yes  or  No,  according  to  the  spirit  of  the  -enquiry. 

B}^  our  previous  investigations  we  ha  e  severed 
ourselves  from  the  Cosmic  conception  of  ancient 
Christianity,  inasmuch  as  that  part  of  religion  to 
which  we  stiM  prefer  a  claim  rests  on  a  basis 
essentially  ditJ'erent  from  the  traditional  religious 
ideas.  Now  the  question  is,  what  do  we  propose 
to  put  in  the  vacant  place  ?  Let  us  therefore  turn  to 
the  other  part  of  our  task,  and  endeavour  to  give 
an  answer  to  the  question : — 


-^t. 


i6g 


I 


III. 

WHAT  IS  OUR   CONCEPTION   OF  THE  UNIVERSE? 

42. 

N  the  investigation  regarding  our  relations  to 
relig*  jn  we  finally  arrived  at  the  idea  of  the 
Cosmos.  After  the  pluralitj^  of  gods  in  the  various 
religions  had  resolved  themselves  into  the  one  per- 
sonal God,  he  in  like  manner  resolved  himself  into 
the  impersonal  but  person-shaping  All.  This  same 
idea  forms  likewise  the  ultimate  point  of  departure 
— from  whichever  point  of  view  one  regards  it — of 
our  Cosmic  conception. 

Experience,  as  we  know,  offers  us  immediately  a 
variety  of  impressions  and  subjective  states  which 
are  conditioned  by  it :  that  we  should  regard  ex- 
ternal objects  as  causes  of  these  impressions,  and 
in  consequence  arrive  at  the  conception  of  a  world 
CO]  wonting  us,  has  indeed  long  ago  become  a  second 
,  .  ■»"  ure,  yet  is  nevertheless  the  result  of  a  process 
V  syllogistic  reasoning.  In  this  world  thus  con- 
c    v^ed    by   us,   we    distinguish    the    hypothetical 


1 70  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New, 

causes  of  impressions  we  receive,  or  the  external 
objects,  from  that  side  of  our  own  being  by  which 
we  receive  these  impressions,  i.  e.,  our  physical 
organization;  as  we  distinguish  in  our  own  being 
between  this  external  side  and  that  which  receives 
its  impressions  through  it,  our  Ego  or  Self 

We  cannot  here  further  elucidate  how,  in  onr 
physical  organization,  we  distinguish  between  its 
various  states  of  impressibility  and  between  the 
several  senses ;  and  how,  on  the  other  side,  the 
objective  causes  of  impressions  tend  more  and  more 
to  separate  themselves  into  groups,  which  range 
themselves  either  side  by  side,  or  above  and  below 
one  another,  according  to  the  degree  of  their  diver- 
sity and  affinity,  substance  and  compass,  till  at  last 
is  matured  this  whole  complex,  orderly  system  of 
our  present  conception  of  Kature  and  the  Cosmos. 
We  proceed  from  the  isolated  circles  of  phenomena 
around  us,  from  the  secure  basis  of  elemental  forces, 
to  vegetable  and  animal  life,  to  the  universal  vital 
principle  of  the  earth,  thence  to  that  of  our  solar 
system,  and  ever  on  and  on,  till  at  last  we  com- 
prehend all  that  exists  in  one  single  conception, 
and  this  conception  is  that  of  the  Cosmos. 

But  as  these  smaller  circles,  from  and  by  which 


W/iat  is  Our  Conception  of  the   Universe?    171 

we  ascended  to  that  highest  idea,  by  no  means 
represent  mere  aggregations  of  externally  co-ordi- 
nated objects,  but  are  intrinsically  united  by 
forces  and  laws :  so  we  shall  have  to  conceive 
of  the  Cosmos  as  being  the  sum  not  only  of  all 
phenomena,  but  of  all  forces  and  all  laws. 
"Whether  we  define  this  as  the  totality  of  the 
impelled  matter,  or  of  the  impelling  forces,  of 
motion  according  to  laws,  or  laws  of  motion,  it  is 
always  the  same  thing,  only  viewed  from  diiferent 
sides. 

The  unity  of  the  All  is  obviously  but  a  conclusion 
deduced  from  analysis  ;  the  same  seems  to  hold  good 
in  respect  to  its  infinity,  as  regards  both  duration 
and  extent.  The  All  being  the  All,  nothing  can 
exist  outside  of  it;  it  seems  even  to  exclude  the 
idea  of  a  void  beyond.  Nevertheless,  the  infinitude 
or  finiteness  of  the  Cosmos  has  at  all  times  been 
a  subject  of  controversy.  And  here  it  lay  in  the 
interest  of  theology  to  afiirm  its  finite  nature,  so 
that  infinity  might  be  reserved  to  the  world-creating 
Deity;  the  bias  of  independent  philosophy  was 
towards  the  opposite  side. 

Kant,  as  we  know,  has  here  adduced  a  so-called 
antinomy,  i.  e.,  he  has  apparently  contrived  to 
establish   proposition   and   counter-proposition   by 


1 7  2  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New, 

equally  ccgent  arguments,  believing  himself  to  have 
at  last  discovered  the  solution  of  the  contradiction, 
in  the  j)erception  that  our  reason  has  exceeded  her 
pri^^lege  in  seeking  to  determine  anything  in 
respect  to  a  domain  so  far  removed  from  all  expe- 
rience. To  myself  this  antinomy  has  always  appeared 
as  one  not  only  admitting  but  demanding  an  objec- 
tive solution.  It  is  ah-eady  thirty  years  since  I 
expressed  myself  as  follows  in  my  work  on  Dogmatic 
Divinity,  in  speaking  of  the  Christian  doctrine  of 
the  end  of  the  world : — ''  As  w^e  are  competent  to 
geologically  trace  the  gradual  formation  of  our 
earth,  it  follows  with  metaphysical  necessity  that 
she  must  likewise  perish ;  as  a  something  having  a 
beofinnino-  and  not  likewise  an  end  would  add  to 
the  sum  of  being  in  the  universe,  and  in  consequence 
annul  its  infinity.  It  can  only  remain  a  constant 
and  absolute  wdiole  in  virtue  of  a  perpetual  alter- 
nation of  birth  and  dissolution  among  its  individual 
component  parts.  A  gradation  in  respect  of  their 
comparative  maturity  is  unquestionably  observable 
among  the  members  of  our  solar  system ;  thus  even 
may  the  mighty  w^hole  of  the  Cosmos  resemble  one 
of  those  trojdcal  trees  on  which,  simultaneously,  here 
a  blossom  bursts  into  flower,  there  a  ripe  fruit 
drops  from  the  bough." 


What  is  Our  Conception  of  the  Ijnivtrse?  173 

In  other  words,  we  must  make  this  distinction 
between  the  world  or  universe  in  the  absalube,  and 
the  world  in  the  relative  sense  of  the  term,  when  it 
admits  of  a  plural ;  that  indeed  every  world  in  the 
latter  sense,  even  to  the  most  comprehensive  of  its 
constituents,  has  a  limit  in  space,  as  well  as  a  begin- 
ning and  end  in  time,  yet  that  the  universe  diffuses 
itself  in  boundless  yet  coherent  extension  through- 
out all  space  and  all  time.  Not  only  our  earth,  but 
the  solar  system  as  well,  has  been  what  it  is  not  at 
present — had  at  one  time  no  existence  as  a  system 
and  will  one  day  cease  to  exist  as  such.  Time  has 
been  when  our  earth  was  not  yet  inhabited  by  a 
rational  creature,  and  yet  farther  back,  not  even  by 
a  living  creature ;  nay,  a  time  when  she  was  not  as 
yet  compacted  to  a  solid  body,  when  she  was  not 
as  yet  separated  from  the  sun  and  the  other  planets. 
But  if  we  contemplate  the  universe  as  a  whole, 
there  never  has  been  a  time  when  it  did  not  exist, 
when  there  did  not  exist  in  it  a  distinction  between 
the  heavenly  bodies,  life,  and  reason ;  for  all  this, 
if  not  as  yet  existing  in  one  part  of  the  Cosmos, 
already  existed  in  another,  while  in  a  third  it  had 
akeady  ceased  to  exist :  here  it  was  in  the  act  of 
blooming,  yonder  in  full  flower,  at  a  third  place 
already  in  decline ;  but  the  Cosmos  itself — the  sum- 


1 74  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New. 

total  of  infinite  worlds  in  all  stages  of  growth  and 
decay — abode  eternally  unchanged,  in  the  constancy 
of  its  absolute  energy,  amid  the  everlasting  revolu- 
tion and  mutation  of  thinofs. 

43. 

On  this  subject  no  one  has  given  expression  to 
thoughts  more  sublime,  although  not  fully  elabor- 
ated, than  Kant  himself,  in  his  "  General  History 
and  Theory  of  the  Heavens,"  published  in  1755,  a 
work  which  has  always  appeared  to  me  as  being 
not  less  important  than  his  later  "  Critique  of  Pure 
Eeason."  If  in  the  latter  we  admire  the  depth  of 
insight,  the  breadth  of  observation  strikes  us  in  the 
former.  If  in  the  latter  we  can  trace  the  old  man's 
anxiety  to  hold  fast  to  even  a  limited  possession 
of  knowledge,  so  it  be  but  on  a  firm  basis,  in  the 
former  we  encounter  the  mature  man,  full  of 
the  daring  of  the  discoverer  and  conqueror  in  the 
realm  of  thought.  An  1  by  the  one  work  he  is  as 
much  the  founder  of  modern  cosmogony,  as  of 
modern  philosophy  by  the  other. 

He  here  calls  the  world  **  a  phoenix,  which  but 
consumes  itself  in  order  to  rise  rejuvenated  from 
its  ashes."  Just  as  on  our  earth,  decay  in  one 
place  is  compensated  by  new  growth    in    another, 


What  is  Our  Coitceptmi  of  the  Universe?  175 

"  in  the  same  manner  worlds  and  systems  of  worlds 
perish,  and  are  engulfed  in  the  abyss  of  eternity : 
meanwhile,  creation  is  ever  active  to  erect  new 
structures  in  other  regions  of  the  heavens"  (he 
meaDS,  in  other  parts  of  infinite  Cosmic  space),  "  and 
to  replace  the  loss  with  profit ;  and  if  a  system  of 
worlds  has,  in  the  course  of  its  duration,  exhausted 
every  variety  of  life  of  which  its  constitution  will 
allow,  if  it  has  become  a  superfluous  link  in  the  chain 
of  being,  then  nothing  can  be  more  fit  than  that  it 
should  now  play  its  last  part  in  the  drama  of  the 
successive  transformations  of  the  universe — a  part 
which  is  but  the  due  of  every  finite  phenomenon — 
that  of  rendering  its  tribute  to  mutability.  Creation 
is  so  infinite  that  we  may  unhesitatingly  regard  a 
world,  or  a  galaxy  of  worlds,  in  comparison  to  it,  as 
we  would  a  flower  or  an  insect  as  compared  to  the 
earth." 

Neither,  as  already  hinted,  is  any  destruction 
final.  Even  as  the  order  of  Nature,  such  as  it  now 
exists,  has  evolved  itself  out  of  Chaos,  so  likewise 
can  it  again  evolve  itself  out  of  the  new  Chaos 
occasioned  by  its  destruction;  especially  as  Kant 
conceives  the  destruction  as  taking  place  by  com- 
bustion, by  which  the  same  conditions  must  again 
be   produced  as  those  whence,   according  to  him. 


176  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New, 

our  planetary  system  was  primarily  evolved.  "  We 
shall  not  hesiVate,"  he  says,  "to  admit  this  {\.e. 
the  possibility  of  a  new  formation),  when  it  is 
considered  that  as  soon  as  the  planets  and  comets 
have  attained  the  last  degi-ee  of  exhaustion  induced 
by  their  circling  motion  in  space,  they  will  all  be 
precipitated  on  the  sun,  and  thus  add  immeasurably 
to  his  heat.  This  fire,  violently  increased  b}^  the 
added  fuel,  will,  unquestionably,  not  only  resolve  all 
things  again  into  their  minutest  elements,  but  will 
likewise,  with  an  expansive  power  commensurate 
to  its  heat,  again  diffuse  and  distribute  them  over 
the  same  ample  spaces  which  they  had  occupied 
before  the  first  formation  of  Nature.  Then  the 
vehemence  of  the  central  fire  having  abated,  from 
the  almost  complete  destruction  of  its  mass,  it 
will  regularly  repeat  the  ancient  procreations  and 
systematically-connected  motions,  by  a  combination 
of  the  forces  of  attraction  and  repulsion,  and  thus 
once  more  produce  a  new  macrocosm." 

All  this  could  not  possibly  be  better  expressed ; 
nevertheless,  Kant  has  only  realized  the  idea  of  the 
perpetual  mutation  in  the  gTowth  and  decay  of 
the  parts ;  not  to  the  same  extent  that  of  the 
immutable  infinity  of  the  whole.  True,  as  regards 
space,  the  universe  is  limitless  in  his  eyes,  and  on 


W/iat  is  Our  Conception  of  the   Universe?   177 

this  subject  he  certainly  has  the  most  exalted  views. 
It  was  the  Englishman  Wright,  of  Diirliam,  who 
supplied  him  with  the  conception  of  the  Milky  Way 
as  a  system  of  innumerable  fixed  stars  or  suns, 
grouped  in  a  lenticular  form ;  and  he  recognized  the 
so-called  nebulae  as  similar  systems,  whicji  only  appear 
small  or  indistinct  to  us  from  their  immeasurable 
distance.  But  now,  as  regards  time,  althouojh  to 
Kant  the  creation  is  never  complete,  yet  it  once 
had  a  beginning.  This  very  expression — the  crea- 
tion— will  suffice  to  show  us  whence  his  thought  had 
come  by  this  limit.  He  would  not  lose  the  act  of 
creation,  and  this  he  can  only  conceive  as  a  begin- 
ning. This  leads  him  to  the  singular  conception 
of  God  having  commenced  the  organization  and 
vivification  of  Chaos  at  a  definite  point  in  space, 
probably  in  the  centre — which  he  further  conceives 
of  as  a  huge  primal  mass,  the  centre  of  gravity — 
and  proceeding  thence  towards  its  periphery.  The 
exterior  sphere  is  still  Chaos,  and  order  is  only 
gradually  communicated  to  it  from  the  centre.  He 
adds,  further,  that  this  theory  "of  a  consecutive 
perfection  of  creation  "  fills  the  human  mind  with 
sublime  amazement.  But  what  of  these  contra- 
dictions: a  centre  of  infinite  space,  a  beginning  of 
infinite  time  ? 

VOL.  I.  N 


178  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New, 

44.  ' 

In  regard,  however,  to  the  finite  space  of  our 
solar  system,  which  he  undertook  to  explain  as 
having  originated  according  to  purely  mechanical 
principles — to  the  exclusion  of  a  Creator  acting 
with  determinate  aims  —  Kant  became,  in  the 
above-mentioned  work,  the  founder  of  a  theory 
which  is  still  accepted  at  the  present  day.  He  does 
not,  that  is,  exclude  the  Creator  in  the  sense  of 
denying  his  existence  ;  what  he  denies  is  any  inter- 
vention of  God  in  the  cosmogonical  process :  the 
Creator,  at  the  beginning,  has  endowed  matter  with 
such  forces  and  laws  as,  without  further  action  on 
his  part,  must  develop  into  the  well-ordered  Cosmos. 

Whence  arise  sun  and  planets  ?  whence  the 
revolutions  of  the  latter,  all  following  that  of 
the  sun  round  its  own  axis,  and  also  much  on  the 
same  plane  ?  The  pious  Newton  sought  the  ex- 
planation in  the  finger  of  God ;  Eufibn  in  a  comet. 
One  of  these,  he  surmised,  having  been  precipitated 
on  the  sun,  detached  thence  a  torrent  of  fiery 
matter,  which  at  various  distances  concentrated  it- 
self into  spheres,  and  gradually  became  opaque  and 
solid  through  refrigeration.  "  I  assume,"  says  Kant, 
on  the  other  hand,  ''  that  all  the  matter  of  which 


What  is  Our  Co7iception  of  the  Universe  'f  179 

the  globes,  planets,  and  comets  which  belong  to  our 
solar  system,  consist,  was  once,  in  the  beginning  of 
things,  resolved  into  its  elemental  primal  essence, 
and  filled  the  universal  space  where  these  highly- 
developed  heavenly  bodies  now  revolve."  The  same 
idea  was  at  a  later  period  expressed,  not  more 
felicitously,  by  Laplace,  who  was  unacquainted 
with  his  precursor,  the  German  philosopher.  He 
says  that,  in  observing  the  revolutions  of  the  planets, 
we  are  led  to  the  supposition  that  the  solar  atmos- 
phere, in  consequence  of  its  enormous  heat,  had  origi- 
nally extended  beyond  all  the  planetary  orbits,  and 
had  only  very  gradually  contracted  to  its  present 
limits.  Both,  however,  as  we  shall  see,  explain  the 
formation  of  the  heavenly  bodies,  as  well  as  their 
motions,  by  this  original  dissipation  of  elementary 
matter. 

If  Kant,  in  so  doing,  speaks  of  the  beginning  of 
all  things,  we  may  take  this  quite  seriously  accord- 
ing to  his  theory ;  as,  however,  he  admits  that  in 
the  future  also,  after  the  destruction  of  our  solar 
system,  an  exactly  similar  condition  will  result  from 
the  dissolution  of  its  parts,  he  cannot  determine 
whether  in  the  first  instance  also  this  condition  was 
not  the  result  of  a  preceding  destruction.  Much 
less  can  we,  who  recognize  a  beginning  of  the  Cosmos 


1 80  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New, 

as  little  as  an  end,  regard  the  matter  in  a  different 
light ;  while  at  the  same  time  we  leave  it  an  open 
question  whether  the  dissolution  and  transforma- 
tion concerned  our  solar  system  alone,  or  the  whole 
galaxy  of  which  it  forms  but  a  single  province. 

At  bottom  this  was  the  Cosmic  conception  of 
the  Stoics ;  only  they  extended  this  view  to  the 
whole  Cosmos,  and  conceived  of  it  in  harmony 
with  their  pantheism.  The  Primal  Being  secretes 
the  world  as  its  body,  but  gradually  absorbs  it 
again,  so  that  at  last  this  produces  a  universal 
conflagration,  which  reduces  all  things  to  their 
primal  condition,  i.e.,  resolves  them  in  the  divine 
primordial  fire.  But  the  great  year  of  the  world 
having  thus  elapsed,  the  formation  of  a  new  world 
begins,  in  which,  according  to  a  whimsical  Stoic 
notion,  the  former  one  was  exactly  reproduced, 
down  to  particular  events  and  persons  (Socrates 
and  Xanthippe).  Kant,  in  combating  this  whim, 
remarks,  with  deep  insight,  which  on  other  occasions 
also  serves  him  in  good  stead,  that  there  can  be  no 
question  of  absolute  precision  in  the  arrangement  of 
Nature,  "  because,"  as  he  expresses  it,  "  the  multi- 
plicity of  circumstances  Avhicli  participate  in  every 
natural  process  preclude  precise  regularity."  Accord- 
ing to  Buddhism,  also,  there  never  has  been  a  time 


What  is  Our  Conception  of  the  Universe  .^  1 8 1 

Valien  worlds  and  beings  have  not  been  evolved  in 
endless  revolutions  of  birth  and  decay :  every  world 
has  arisen  from  a  former  ruined  world  ;  infinite  time 
is  divided  into  the  great  and  lesser  Kalpas,  i.e.,  into 
more  or  less  extensive  periods  of  destruction  and 
renovation,  caused  by  the  elemental  forces  of  water, 
wind,  or  fire. 

These  auguries  of  religion  and  philosophy  have 
in  recent  times  gained  scientific  probability,  owing 
to  two  discoveries  in  physics.  From  the  gradual 
'  diminution  of  the  orbit  of  Encke's  comet  has  been 
inferred  the  existence  in  space  of  matter,  which, 
even  though  attenuated  to  the  last  degree,  by  the 
resistance  it  opposes  to  the  revolving  bodies  must 
gradually,  at  however  distant  a  period,  narrow  the 
orbits  of  the  planets,  and  produce  finally  their 
collision  with  the  sun.  The  other  discovery  is  that 
of  the  conservation  of  energy.  If  it  be  a  Cosmic 
law  that  impeded  motion  is  transformed  to  heat, 
and  heat  again  begotten  by  motion — that,  in  fact, 
the  force  of  nature,  as  soon  as  it  has  disappeared 
in  one  form,  reappears  in  another — the  possibility 
surely  here  dawns  upon  us  that  in  this  retardation 
of  Cosmic  motion.  Nature  may  possess  the  means  of 
summoning  new  life  out  of  death. 


'i82  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New, 


45. 

Altliou2:li  we  allow  the  mass  of  diffused  matter 
which,  with  Kant  and  Laplace,  we  assume  to  have 
constituted  the  primal  matter  of  our  planetary 
system,  to  have  been  evolved  from  a  preceding  pro- 
cess of  combustion,  we  must  regard  it  as  now  com- 
pletely refrigerated,  in  consequence  of  the  extreme 
dispersion  of  its  parts.  Only  when,  in  virtue  of  the 
law  of  gravitation,  the  dispersed  atoms  gradually  ap- 
proached each  other,  and  subsequently  assumed  the 
form  of  an  enormous  sphere  of  nebulous  matter, 
would  they  again  have  acquired  light  and  heat  on 
the  one  hand,  on  the  other  the  rotating  motion  which 
is  naturally  inherent  in  the  sphere ;  just  as  the  form 
itself  belongs  to  masses  consisting  of  gaseous  or  fluid 
substances.  The  matter  comprised  within  the  cir- 
cumference of  the  globe  would  gradually  have  settled 
towards  the  centre,  while  the  radiation  of  heat  from 
its  surface  would  have  produced  further  contraction. 
At  the  same  time,  the  rapidity  of  the  nebulous  globe's 
rotation  on  its  axis  would  have  become  accelerated 
in  the  ratio  of  the  diminution  of  its  volume.  The 
speed  of  the  rotation  would  be  greatest  at  the  equator 
of  the  globe,  which  we,  in  consequence,  must  picture 


What  is  Our  Conception  of  the  Universe  ?  1 83 

to  ourselves  as  prodigiously  inflated  at  the  central 
zone,  while  it  is  flattened  at  the  poles. 

But   the  concurring   diminution  of  the  sphere's 
volume  and  acceleration  of  its  rotation  will  now 
occasion  portions  to  separate  themselves  from  the 
refluent  mass  in  the  region  where  rotation  is  most 
rapid,  and  to  revolve,  at  first,  perhaps,  in  an  annular 
shape,  along  with,  and  in  the  same  direction  as,  the 
contracting  nebulous  globe.     Astronomy  was  led  to 
this  conjecture  of  the  separations  from  the  primal 
mass  having  first  taken  place  in  the  shape  of  rmgs, 
by  the  observation  of  the  ring  of  Saturn.     For  as 
astronomers  consider  themselves  justified  in  regard- 
ing the  origin  of  the  satelhtes  which  spin  round  the 
difierent  planets  as  a  repetition  on  a  small  scale  of  the 
origin  of  the  planets  themselves,  and  as  they  further 
opine  that  the  ring  of  Saturn  consists,  so  to  speak, 
of  one  or  more  of  the  innermost  satelhtes  of  the 
Saturnian  system  arrested  in  the  process  of  forma- 
tion; they  readily  assume  the  same  annular  form  in 
their   speculations    respecting    the    origin   of    the 
planetary  system.     The  ring,  it  is  further  asserted, 
then  burst,  and  condensed  itself  into  a  globe,  which 
henceforth  continued  to  revolve  in  the  direction  of  the 
rotation  of  the  primal  mass,  first  round  it,  then  in  the 
same  direction  round  its  own  axis.     If  we  explain 


1 84  The  Old  Faith  and  ike  New, 

the  origin  of  the  planets  from  sucli  a  process  of  dis- 
integration,  this  process  must  have  repeated  itself 
several  times,  so  that  the  planet  most  remote  from 
the  sun  would  be  its  firstborn,  that  nearest  it  the 
youngling  of  the  planetary  band. 

That  the  orbits  of  the  planets  form,  not  circles,  but 
ellipses,  that  they  do  not  exactly,  but  only  approxi- 
mately, lie  within  the  plane  of  the  sun's  equator, 
and  that  they  rotate  on  their  axes  at  angles  of 
vaiious  degrees  of  inclination  towards  the  plane  of 
their  orbits, — these  belong  to  those  irregularities  in 
the  incidents  of  Nature  of  which  we  have  just  heard 
Kant  speak,  and  may  have  their  origin  in  general 
or  particular  circumstances  connected  with  the 
separation  and  formation  of  these  bodies.  Thus 
the  circumstance  that  the  planets  most  remote  from 
the  sun  are  in  general  the  larger,  and  the  more 
abundantly  furnished  with  satellites,  but  at  the 
same  time  the  less  dense,  may  be  explained  from 
the  abundant  existence  but  imperfect  concentration 
of  matter  at  the  period  of  the  original  separation; 
although  here  also  chance,  i.e.,  the  combined  action 
of  hitherto  undiscovered  causes,  must  have  had  a 
considerable  share,  as  not  the  outermost  but  the 
innermost  of  this  more  remote  group — viz.,  Jupiter 
— is    the   largest,   while   Neptune's   density   again 


What  is  Our  Conception  of  the  Universe?  185 

exceeds  that  of  Saturn  and  Uranus.  Again— it  has 
as  yet  not  been  possible  to  formulate  the  law  of  the 
increase,  or,  more  correctly  speaking,  the  decrease, 
of  the  distances  of  the  planets  from  one  another  and 
from  the  sun.  That  is  to  say,  every  planetary  orbit 
in  the  order  of  its  remoteness  from  the  sun  (the 
orbit  of  the  asteroids  being  counted  as  one)  is 
between  one-and-a-half  times  and  twice  as  dis- 
tant from  it  as  the  preceding  one.  Schopenhauer 
sought  to  explain  this  by  the  hypothesis  of  a  con- 
traction consequent  upon  a  succession  of  shocks 
ensuing  in  the  central  body,  and  contracting  it  on 
each  occasion  to  one-half  of  its  former  dimensions, 
and  the  spaces  between  the  planets  formed  by 
these  shocks  regularly  diminishing  in  proportion. 

The  globes  thus  separating  from  and  revolving 
around  the  central  body  contracted  in  like  manner, 
and  while  the  larger  members  of  the  system 
repeated  their  own  process  of  formation  in  the 
casting  off  of  satellites,  they  cooled  down  at  the 
same  time,  and  acquired  opacity  and  density.  Here, 
however,  two  causes  acted  in  opposite  directions. 
The  contraction  of  the  spheres,  and  the  closer 
pressure  of  their  parts  upon  each  other,  increased 
the  temperature;  but  then  again  its  radiation 
into  the  cold   space    around   diminished  it.     And 


1 86  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New. 

as  the  latter  cause  necessarily  predominated  the 
more,  the  smaller  the  body  was,  the  lesser  planets 
became  cool  and  firm  sooner  than  the  larger ;  as 
Jupiter  especially  will  probably  be  found  to  be 
even  now  less  cool  and  solid  at  his  surface  than 
the  earth,  and  to  have  in  consequence  retained 
something  of  innate  luminosity.  The  fire  in  the 
enormous  central  body  continues  as  before,  and 
supports  itself,  as  physicists  conjecture,  partly  by 
further  although  imperceptible  contraction,  partly 
by  the  perpetual  crashing  down  on  its  mass  of 
small   cosmic  bodies   analoo-ous   to  our  meteorites. 

o 

The  manner  in  which  our  whole  solar  system,  how- 
ever, is  governed  and  maintained  by  those  great 
laws  of  the  relations  of  distance  and  motion  which 
Kepler  discovered,  and  Newton  traced  back  to  the 
efiect  of  one  law  of  gravity,  need  not  be  further 
elucidated  here. 

46. 

Together  with  the  general  cosmogonic  idea  of 
Kant,  modern  astronomy  has  confirmed  and  further 
developed  his  conception  of  the  galaxy  as  a  lens- 
shaped  aggregation  of  countless  suns,  and  of  the 
nebulae  as  similar  groups,  whose  apparent  smallness 
is  merely  the  efiect  of  their  enormous  distance.     In 


lV//^t  is  Our  Conception  of  the  Universe  f   187 

tlie  place  of  his  supposition  of  a  central  body  for 
our  Milk  J  Way  (which  he  supposed  to  be  Sirius) 
the  generally  accepted  view  is  now  that  of  an  equal 
mutual  attraction  and  corresponding  motion  of  all 
the  stars  in  the  same  group — a  republic  instead 
of  a  monarchy,  as  it  were. 

The  discovery  of  double  stars  has  also  imparted 
unexpected  variety  to  our  conception  of  the  system 
of  the  universe.  Once  the  so-called  fixed  stars 
were  conceived  of  as  analogous  to  our  sun,  each 
environed  by  a  number  of  planets ;  but  later,  two 
suns  were  every  now  and  then  observed  to  re- 
volve round  each  other,  or  their  common  centre 
of  gravity.  Although  this  by  no  means  excludes 
the  supposition  that  each  of  tliese  may  be  sur- 
rounded by  a  number  of  planetary  bodies,  it 
nevertheless  engenders  very  peculiar  combinations 
as  to  the  conditions  of  light  and  motion  to  which 
they  are  subject.  The  recent  discovery  of  such 
double  stars,  where  one  of  the  pair  is  not  a  sun, 
but  an  opaque  body,  was  still  more  surprising. 
We  find  that  amongst  others  the  resplendent  Sirius 
is  mated  with  such  an  obscure  companion.  It 
would  seem,  therefore,  that  we  have  here  a  case 
difiering  materially  from  the  formation  of  our  sclar 


I88  The  Old  Faith  and  the  Nezv. 

system — that  the  planetary  mass  does  not  constitute 
a  plurality  of  smaller  bodies  revolving  round  the 
sun,  but  a  single  body,  closely  approximating,  how- 
ever, to  tlie  sun  in  bulk  and  weight. 

Many  of  the  so-called  nebulge  have,  like  the 
galaxy,  been  resolved  by  the  telescope  into  clusters 
of  stars  ;  and  after  several,  which  had  formerly  been 
considered  irresolvable,  had  failed  to  resist  the 
power  of  keener  telescopes,  the  idea  began  to  be 
entertained  that  all  the  nebulae  were  probably,  in 
reality,  groups  of  suns  similar  to  our  Milky  Way. 
Kirchhoff  s  marvellous  discovery  of  spectrum  analy- 
sis unexpectedly  brought  about  a  decision  which 
could  not  be  given  by  the  telescope.  In  the  spec- 
troscope some  of  the  nebulae  manifest  the  same 
lines  as  the  fixed  stars ;  others,  however,  are  re- 
cognizable, by  the  lines  of  their  spectra,  as  glow- 
ing gaseous  masses.  The  importance  of  this 
discovery  for  our  cosmogonic  theory  is  self-evi- 
dent. It  actually  proves  the  truth  of  our  previ- 
ous assumption — that  boundless  space  contains  not 
only  completed  worlds,  but  also  such  as  are  only 
in  process  of  formation,  or  just  developing  out 
of  a  gaseous  state.  And  if,  on  the  other  side, 
we  think  of  those  stars  which  were  once  invisible, 
or  barely  visible,  but  which  suddenly  flaming  up. 


IV/iat  is  Our  Conception  of  tJic   Universe  f  1 89 

rose  to  be  stars  of  the  first  or  second  magnitude, 
in  order  to  disappear  again  after  a  longer  or 
shorter  interval, — we  are  perforce  led  to  regard 
these  as  worlds  which,  while  blazing  into  ruin, 
were  preparing  for  a  fresh  evolution. 

Kant  thinks  it  precipitate  to  infer,  from  the 
fact  of  the  earth's  being  a  planet  inhabited  by 
living,  and  in  part  intelligent,  beings,  that  there- 
fore, all  planets  are  inhabited;  and  that  it  would, 
on  the  other  hand,  be  absurd  to  deny  this  in  the 
case  of  all,  or  even  of  the  greater  part  of  them. 
Similar  circumstances  acting  as  causes  lead  to 
the  conjecture  of  similar  effects ;  but  we  must 
carefully  investigate  the  circumstances  before  we 
are  justified  in  drawing  conclusions  from  them. 
The  fact  of  being  lighted  and  heated  by  the  sun, 
of  revolution  on  their  axes,  and  consequent  alter- 
nations of  day  and  night, — these  and  other  simi- 
larities in  planets  may  be  modified  to  such  a 
degree,  by  differences  in  the  distance  from  the  sun, 
by  size  and  density,  that  the  inference  from  anal- 
ogy is  invalidated. 

Here  also  Kant  perceived  the  true  state  of  the 
case.  *'  Perhaps,"  he  says,  "all  the  heavenly  bodies 
are  not  yet  completely  developed ;  hundreds,  nay, 
thousands  (we  may  safely  add  several  cyphers)  of 


190  TJie  Old  Faith  and  the  Nczv. 

years  are  necessary  for  tlie  matter  of  one  of  the 
larger  globes  to  attain  firm  consistency.  Jupiter 
ßtill  seems  to  be  unsolidified.  We  may,  however, 
rest  contented  in  the  supposition  that,  although 
he  should  be  uninhabited  as  yet,  he  nevertheless 
will  have  inhabitants  when  the  period  of  his  de- 
velopment is  completed."  But  granted  even  that 
he  never  should  attain  a  hal)itable  condition,  this, 
according  to  Kant,  ought  as  little  to  disturb  us  as 
we  are  disturbed  by  the  existence  of  uninhabitable 
wildernesses  on  our  earth. 

Our  moon,  which  of  course  is  an  infinitely  smaller 
sphere,  we  must  resign  ourselves,  it  seems,  to  con- 
ceive of  as  a  barren  rock ;  for  we  are  unable  to 
perceive  any  atmosphere,  even  of  the  rarest  kind, 
on  the  side  which  is  visible  to  us,  and  the  arguments 
lately  adduced  to  prove  its  possibility  on  the  side 
continually  averted  from  the  earth  are  still  subject 
to  considerable  doubt.  As  regards  the  sun  the  case 
is  different,  inasmuch  as  he,  although  unable  to 
shelter  oro^anic  life  on  his  burninor  surface,  is  never- 
theless  mediately,  by  reason  of  the  heat  he  radiates, 
the  cause  of  all  life  throughout  the  realm  over 
which  he  reigns.  As  to  the  vagrant  race  of  comets 
there  can,  of  course,  be  no  question  of  inhabitants. 
Kant  endeavoured,  by  his  hypothesis  of  the  existence 


W/ml  is  Our  Conception  of  the   Universe?  191 

of  other  plauets  beyond  Saturn,  with  constantly 
increasing  eccentricity  of  orbit,  to  establisli  a  steady- 
transition  from  planets  to  comets.  Modern  astro- 
nomy, however,  has  long  recognized  the  radically 
different  nature  of  these  two  kinds  of  heavenly 
bodies,  and  now  inclines  to  look  upon  the  comets  as 
intermundane  bodies,  which,  domiciled  outside  of  our 
solar  system,  only  pass  through  it  from  time  to  time, 
when  some  few,  retained  by  the  forces  of  attraction, 
take  up  their  abode  among  us  for  better  or  worse. 

Once  fairly  launched  into  speculation  concerning 
the  inhabitants  of  the  planets,  Kant  raises  the 
question  as  to  the  relations  of  rank  which  may 
possibly  exist  among  them.  On  the  one  hand,  it 
seems  natural  to  infer  that  the  inhabitants  of  the 
planets  must  be  the  more  perfect  in  the  degree  of 
their  vicinity  to  the  sun,  the  source  of  all  light  and 
life.  Thus  the  inhabitants  of  Mercury  would  be 
more  perfect  than  those  of  Yen  us,  these  latter  than 
those  of  our  earth,  while,  lastly,  the  inhabitants  of 
Uranus  and  Neptune,  if  such  there  be,  would  be,  so 
to  speak,  the  Lapps  and  Samoyeds  of  our  system. 
Kant  takes  exactly  the  opposite  view.  As  distance 
from  the  sun  increases,  the  heat  of  the  planets  no 
doubt  grows  less,  but  so  too  does  their  density  and 
the  grossness  of  the  matter  of  which  they  consist. 


192  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New. 

Thence,  Kant  believes,  he  may  deduce  the  law, 
"that  the  perfection  of  the  spiritual  as  well  as  of 
the  material  world  on  the  planets,  from  Mercury  to 
Saturn,  and  perhaps  beyond  him  (Uranus  had  not 
as  yet  been  discovered),  increases  in  direct  propor- 
tion to  their  distance  from  the  sun." 

According  to  this  arrangement,  man,  the  inhabi- 
tant of  the  third  planet  from  within  outwards — of 
the  fourth,  according  to  the  science  of  that  time,  if 
counting  from  without  inwards  —  appears,  so  to 
speak,  as  the  average  creature.  The  vacillation  of 
his  moral  nature  between  evil  and  good,  animal  and 
angel,  may  possibly  be  caused  by  this  mean  position. 
Perhaps,  Kant  suspects,  the  inhabitants  of  the  two 
lowest  planets  are  of  too  animal  a  constitution  to 
be  capable  of  sin,  while  those  of  the  upper  are  too 
ethereal.  "  In  this  case  the  earth,  and  perhaps  Mars 
(that  the  poor  comfort  of  having  companions  in 
misfortune  may  not  be  wanting  us),  would  alone  be 
in  that  middle  position,"  where  sin  disports  itself. 

We  shall  take  good  care  not  to  carry  quite  so  far 
as  this  our  conjectures  concerning  the  inhabitants  of 
the  planets ;  but  is  it  not  amusing  that  we  must  be 
on  our  guard  lest  we  be  led  into  extravagant  fancies 
by  him  who  was  destined  to  write  the  Critique  of 
Pure  Eeason  ? 


What  is  Our  Conception  of  the  Universe?   193 

47. 

If  henceforth  we  confine  ourselves  to  the  earth,  we 

shall  find  that  what  we  meet  with  upon  and  beneath 

her  surface  harmonizes  most  beautifully  with  the 

conclusions    we   have    hitherto    drawn.     According- 

o 

to  our  preceding  exposition,  we  have  to  imagine  the 
earth  in  her  primal  condition,  as  a  smaller  vaporous 
sphere,  which  has  severed  itself  from  the  larger  one, 
and  contracts  itself  towards  its  centre  by  reason  of 
the  law  of  gravity,  and  which,  in  spite  of  the  increase 
of  temperature  caused  thereby,  gradually  cools, 
by  reason  of  the  preponderant  radiation  of  heat. 
This  refrigeration  begins  on  the  surface  of  the  globe, 
where  the  radiation  takes  place  :  we  must  conceive 
the  gaseous  matter  as  here  passing  into 'iquid  fire, 
and  finally  assuming  consistence.  The  eartli's  crust, 
in  process  of  formation,  will  first  assume  the  shape 
of  a  smooth  ball  or  spheroid ;  but  the  contraction 
of  the  cooling  globe  continuing,  the  crust  will 
show  wrinkled  inequalities,  and  sometimes  chasms 
will  result,  whence,  beneath  the  pressure  exercised 
by  the  collapsing  crust,  parts  of  the  still  liquid  fire 
or  gaseous  stuff  of  the  interior,  bursting  forth,  bub- 
ble-like, will  issue,  and  thus  the  mountains  and 
valleys  of  the  earth  will  be  formed. 


1 94  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New 

One  of  the  chief  epochs  in  the  formation  of  the 
earth  occurs  at  the  time  when  the  cooling  process 
is  so  far  advanced  that  the  ascending  vapours,  being 
condensed  to  clouds,  descend  again  as  rain.  Water 
now  begins  to  play  its  part,  by  washing  matter 
ashore  and  carrying  off,  dissolving  and  mixing  it, 
and  this  first  makes  organic  life  possible.  The 
enoTJiious  evaporation  of  the  gradually  cooling 
earth  sets  hii2:e  masses  of  clouds  and  rain  in 
motion :  the  earth  is  covered  by  a  tepid  ocean, 
whence  only  the  highest  mountains  tower  like 
islands.  Even  at  this  point  reactions  of  the  glow- 
ing interior  of  the  earth,  as  well  as  atmos- 
pheric action,  may  from  time  to  time  have  pro- 
duced colossal  revolutions  on  the  surface ;  but  in 
this  department  of  science  imagination  has  been 
too  active,  and  Geology,  especially  since  the  stric- 
tures of  Sir  Charles  Lyell,  is  more  inclined  to 
conceive  the  process  as  a  much  more  orderly 
one — as  more  analogous  to  what  we  still  see  tak- 
ing place  in  nature.  The  assumption  of  older 
naturalists,  especially, — that  the  first  rudiments  of 
vegetable  and  animal  organism  on  the  earth  were 
repeatedly  overwhelmed  and  destroyed  by  those 
revolutions,  in  consequence  of  which  their  subse- 
quent creation  was  each  time  requisite  — has  now 


What  is  Our  Conception  of  tJie  Universe?  195 

been  given  up,  the  supposed  general  revolutions 
of  the  earth  having  been  proved  to  have  been 
very  partial  ones,  and  the  uninterrupted  continu- 
ance and  development  of  organic  life  from  its 
beginnings  satisfactorily  established. 


48. 

The  most  ancient  strata  of  the  earth's  crust 
show  no  traces  of  living  beings ;  later  strata  con- 
tain such  traces ;  i.e.,  in  them  we  find  petrifactions 
of  vegetable  and  animal  bodies :  now  whence  did 
this  life  suddenly  come  ?  People  have  been  loth  to 
admit  this  original  deficiency  of  life ;  they  have  called 
attention  to  the  fact  that  those  oldest  strata  have 
experienced  all  kinds  of  metamorphoses,  by  which 
the  remains  formerly  contained  in  them  might  have 
been  destroyed.  It  may  be  so ;  but  that  does  not 
alter  the  result.  The  temperature  of  the  earth,  at 
all  events,  was  at  one  time  so  hio^h  that  livinsc 
organisms  could  not  exist  on  it :  there  w^as  once  no 
organic  life  on  the  earth;  at  a  later  period  there 
was;  it  must,  consequently,  have  had  a  beginning 
and  the  question  is,  how  ? 

Faith   here   intervenes,   with   its   miracle.      God 
ssEid,  Let  the  earth  bring  forth  grass,  and  the  herb 


1 90  TJie  Old  Faith  and  the  New, 

yielding  seed ;  let  her  bring  forth  the  living  creature 
after  his  kind.  This  was  still  accepted  by  the  older 
science  of  Nature ;  according  to  Linnseus,  all  the 
various  kinds  of  animals  and  plants  were  created 
from  a  single  pair,  or  from  a  hermaphroditical 
individual.  Kant  judged  likewise  that  it  might 
well  be  said,  "  Give  me  matter,  and  I  will  explain 
the  origin  of  a  world;"  but  not,  "  Give  me  matter, 
and  I  will  explain  the  production  of  a  caterpillar." 
However,  if  the  problem  is  insoluble  in  this  form, 
it  is  because  of  the  inaccurate  manner  m  which  it 
is  stated.  Whether  I  say  a  caterpillar,  or  the 
elephant,  or  even  man — each  time  I  already  pre- 
suppose an  organism  so  artificially  compacted  that 
it  evidently  could  not  have  proceeded  immediately 
out  of  inorganic  matter.  In  order  to  bridge  this 
chasm,  we  must  take  organic  matter  in  its  simplest 
form,  which,  as  we  know,  is  the  cell.  Could  not 
an  organic  cell  (not  a  caterpillar)  be  naturally  pro- 
duced from  inorganic  matter,  which  was  previously 
the  sole  existinsj  thino-  ?  Even  in  this  form  Dar- 
win  himself  has  not  yet  ventured  to  answer  the 
question  in  the  afiirniative,  but  has  considered  it 
necessary,  at  this  first  point,  at  least,  to  call  miracle 
to  his  assistance.  At  the  beginning  of  things — this, 
at  least,  was  the  doctriue  of  his  first  and  principal 


What  is  Our  Conceptmi  of  the  Universe  ?  197 

work — the  Creator  formed  several,  or  perhaps  even 
only  one  primal  cell,  and  inspired  it  with  life,  whence 
in  the  course  of  time  the  whole  variety  of  organic 
life  on  the  earth  expanded  itself.  His  French  pre- 
cursor, Lamarck,  had  been  bolder,  attributing  the 
origin  of  the  lowest  and  simplest  organisms,  both  at 
the  beginning  and  subsequently,  to  spontaneous 
generation. 

This  question  as  to  the  generafAo  cequivoca  or 
spontanea — i.e.,  as  to  whether  it  be  possible  for  an 
organic  individual,  of  however  imperfect  a  nature, 
to  be  produced  otherwise  than  by  its  kind,  that  is  to 
say,  through  chemical  or  morphological  processes 
not  taking  place  in  the  egg  or  womb,  but  in 
matter  of  a  different  description,  organic  or  inor- 
ganic liquids  —  this  question,  already  eagerly  dis- 
cussed in  the  last  century,  has  again  of  late  engaged 
the  attention  of  science.  But  by  reason  of  the  diffi- 
culty of  instituting  conclusive  experiments,  the  dis- 
cussion has  not  led  to  any  generally  accepted  decis- 
ion. But  even  if  the  occurrence  of  such  spontane- 
ous generation  could  not  be  proved  in  regard  to  our 
present  terrestrial  period,  this  would  establish 
nothing  w^ith  respect  to  a  primaeval  period,  under 
totally  dissimilar  conditions.  '*  All  known  facts,'' 
says  Yirchow,    "are    opposed    to    the  theory  that 


igS  7 he  Old  Faith  and  the  New, 

spontaneous  generation  now  takes  place.  But  as, 
nevertheless,  we  see  life  at  some  time  making  its 
appearance  for  the  first  time  in  the  course  of  the 
earth  s  development,  what  must  our  conclusion  be, 
if  not  that,  under  quite  unusual  circumstances,  at 
the  time  of  vast  terrestrial  revolutions,  the  miracle," 
or  first  appearance  of  life — of  course  in  its  most  rudi- 
mentary form — has  "  actually  come  to  pass  ?  "  The 
existence  of  this  crudest  form  has  since  been  ac- 
tually demonstrated.  Huxley  has  discovered  the 
Bathybius,  a  slimy  heap  of  jell}^  on  the  sea-bottom; 
Bäckel  what  he  has  called  the  Moneres,  structureless 
clots  of  an  albuminous  carbon,  which,  although 
inorganic  in  their  constitution,  yet  are  capable  of 
nutrition  and  accretion.  By  these  the  chasm  may 
be  said  to  be  bridged,  and  the  transition  effected 
from  the  inorganic  to  the  organic. 

To  regard  this  transition  as  a  natural  one,  is  ren- 
dered easier  to  Natural  Science  at  present,  not  only 
by  the  more  exact  statement  of  the  problem,  but  also 
by  the  rectified  conception  of  life  and  its  manifes- 
tations. x\s  long  as  the  contrast  between  nature, 
inorganic  and  organic,  lifeless  and  living,  was  under- 
stood as  an  absolute  one,  as  long  as  the  conception 
of  a  specific  vital  force  was  retained,  there  was  no 
possibility  of  spanning  the  chasm  without  the  aid  of 


What  is  Our  Conception  of  the  Universe  ?   199 

a  miracle.  Natural  Science,  however,  now  teaches, 
that  ''  the  separation  between  so-called  organic  and 
inorganic  nature  is  altogether  arbitrary;  vital  force, 
as  commonly  conceived,  a  chimera  "  (Du  Bois  E-ey- 
mond).  Matter,  the  vehicle  of  life,  is  nothing  special; 
"  no  fundamental  ino^redient  is  to  be  found  in  oro-anic 
bodies  which  is  not  already  present  in  inorganic 
Nature ;  that  which  is  special  to  it  is  the  motion  of 
matter."  But  even  this  "  does  not  form  a  diametrical 
dualistic  contrast  to  the  general  modes  of  motion 
in  Nature ;  life  is  only  a  special,  namely,  the  most 
complicated,  kind  of  mechanics ;  a  part  of  the  sum- 
total  of  matter  emerges  from  time  to  time  out  of 
the  usual  course  of  its  motions  into  special  chemico- 
organic  combinations,  and,  after  having  for  a  time 
continued  therein,  it  returns  again  to  the  general 
modes  of  motion  "  (Virchow).  There  was  no  ques- 
tion, properly  speaking,  therefore,  of  a  new  creation, 
but  only  that  the  matter  and  force  already  in 
existence  should  be  brought  into  another  kind  of 
combination  and  motion ;  an  adequate  cause  for 
which  might  exist  in  the  conditions,  the  temperature, 
the  atmospheric  combinations  of  primseval  times,  so 
utterly  different  from  ours. 


200  The  Old  Faith  and  the  N'ew. 

49. 

Ail  we  have  thus  far  obtained,  however,  is  but  a 
number  of  the  very  lowest  organic  existences,  while 
the  problem  before  us  comprises  the  whole  variety 
of  the  terrestrial  flora  and  fauna,  a  widely-ramified 
line  or  up-growtli  of  organisms.  The  higher  we 
ascend  the  more  we  are  astonished  as  we  note  the 
artificial  adaptation  manifest  in  their  construction^ 
the  marvellous  mobility  of  their  energies,  their 
instincts,  and  ingenuity,  culminating  at  last  in 
human  intelHgence.  All  this  must  be  explained 
in  its  origin;  and  we  are  not  much  assisted 
even  if,  perad venture,  we  can  conceive  the  de- 
velopment of  a  cell  or  of  a  Monere  from  inorganic 
inatter.  Must  we  assume  that  Nature  continued  to 
proceed  after  the  same  fashion,  and  that,  having 
evolved  the  most  imperfect  forms  of  life  from 
lifeless  matter,  she,  by  ever  stronger  impulsion, 
knew  how  to  evoke  from  it  a  perpetually  ascending 
series  of  higher  organisms  ?  But  this  would  land 
us  amid  the  old  difficulties — the  problem  of  the 
caterpillar  or  the  elephant. 

The  only  outlet  here  would  lie  in  the  supposition 
that  Nature,  having  once  produced  an  organic 
structure,  instead  of  continually   recurrinp-  to  the 


What  is  Our  Concept  ion  of  the   Universe?    20 1 

inorganic,  availed  herself  pf  her  advantage,  held 
fast  by  the  progress  towards  organism  she  had  once 
secured,  and  constructed  a  second  more  complex 
organism  from  that  first  simplest  form,  a  third  from 
the  second,  and  so  from  the. [complex  organism 
thus  constructed,  another,  and  again  another  one. 
This  is  better  expressed  by  the  supposition  that 
living  things  possess  the  impulse  as  well  as  the 
capacity  of  developing  themselves  from  the  sim- 
plest beginnings  to  a.  variety  of  forms,  partly  by 
progressive  ascent,  partly  by  lateral  extension. 

Such  a  supposition,  it  is  true,  seems  most 
decidedly  at  variance  with  all  that  we  perceive 
and  observe  around  us.  We  see  that  in  organic 
nature  like  always  proceeds  from  like,  never  unlike 
from  unlike ;  the  differences  of  the  generated  from 
the  generating  subordinating  themselves  as  unes- 
sential in  comparison  with  the  essential  similarity. 
Although  no  oak  ever  resembles  another  in  every 
respect,  yet  no  acorn  ever  produces  a  beech  or  a  fir; 
the  fish  always  reproduces  a  fish,  never  a  bird  or 
a  reptile ;  the  sheep  always  a  sheep,  never  a  bull  or 
a  goat.  On  this  account  natural  science,  till  quite 
recently,  up  to  Cuvier  and  Agassiz,  observed  the 
diff'erent  species  of  organic  beings  as  inviolable 
limits    admitting    perforce    the    development    of 


202  The  Old  Faith  mid  the  Neiü, 

varieties  and  domestic,  breeds,  but  declaring  the 
evolution  of  one  species  into  a  really  new  and 
different  one  simply  impossible.  If  this  is  so, 
then  unquestionably  we  must  take  refuge  in  the 
conception  of  creation  and  of  miracles ;  then  God  in 
the  beginning  must  have  created  grass,  and  herbs, 
and  trees,  as  well  as  the  animals  each  after  its  kind. 
Against  this  still  essentially  theological  doctrine 
an  opposition  has  since  arisen :  Natural  Science  has 
long  endeavoured  to  substitute  the  evolutionary 
theory  in  place  of  the  conception  of  creation,  so  alien 
to  her  spirit ;  but  it  was  Charles  Darwin  who  made 
the  first  truly  scientific  attempt  to  deal  seriously 
with  this  conception,  and  trace  it  throughout  the 
organic  world. 

50. 

Nothing  is  easier  than  to  ridicule  the  Darwinian 
theory,  nothing  cheaper  than  those  sarcastic 
invectives  against  the  descent  of  man  from  the  ape, 
in  which  even  the  better  class  of  reviews  and 
newspapers  are  still  so  fond  of  indulging.  But  a 
theory  whose  very  peculiarity  is  the  interpolation 
of  intermediate  members,  thus  linking  the  seemingly 
remote  in  an  unbroken  chain  of  development,  and 
indicating  the  levers  by  means  of  which   Nature 


What  is  Our  Conception  of  the  Universe  ?  203 

achieved  the  progressive  ascension  in  this  process  of 
evohition — this  theory  surely  no  one  can  suppose 
himself  to  have  refuted  by  bringing  two  formations 
of  such  utterly  ditferent  calibre  as  ape  and  man 
in  their  present  condition  into  immediate  contact 
with  each  other,  and  utterly  ignoring  those  inter- 
mediate gradations  which  the  theory  partly  proves, 
partly  assumes. 

That  the  orthodox,  the  believers  in  Revelation 
and  in  miracles,  should  brandish  their  repugnance 
and  its  accompanying  weapon,  ridicule,  against 
Darwin's  theory,  is  perfectly  intelligible.  They 
know  what  they  are  about,  and  have  good  reason, 
too,  in  combating  to  the  uttermost  a  principle  so 
inimical  to  them.  But  those  sarcastic  newspaper 
writers,  on  the  other  hand — do  they,  then,  belong 
to  the  faithful?  Certainly  not,  as  regards  the 
vast  majority ;  they  swim  with  the  stream  of  the 
times,  and  have  nothing  to  say  to  miracles,  or  to 
the  intervention  of  a  Creator  in  the  course  of 
Nature.  Yery  well ;  how,  then,  do  they  explain 
the  origin  of  man,  the  evolution  of  the  organic 
from  the  inorganic,  if  they  iind  Darwin's  explaiia- 
tion  so  ludicrous!^  Do  they  intend  evolving  pri- 
mseval  man  a  human  organism,  however  rude  and 
unformed  he  be,  immediately  from  the  inorganic : 


204  'l^fi^  Old  Faith  and  the  Neiv. 

the  sea,  tlie  mud  of  the  ^ile,  etc.  ?  They  are 
harcllj  so  daring ;  but  do  they  realize  that  the 
choice  only  lies  between  the  miracle — the  divine 
artificer — and  Darwin  % 

Darwin  v\'as  not  the  first  author  of  the  theory 
which  is  now  usually  called  by  his  name ;  its 
rudiments  are  to  be  met  with  in  the  last  centurj^ ; 
and  at  the  commencement  of  the  present  one  it 
was  propounded  as  a  completed  theory  by  the 
Frenchman  Lamarck.  Essential  constituents  were, 
however,  wanting  to  its  vitality ;  Lamarck  only 
worked  out  the  2)roposition  that  the  species  in 
nature  are  not  fixed,  but  have  been  developed  by 
transmutation,  especially  the  higher  from  the 
lower.  But  to  the  question  of  the  Catechism, — 
*'  How  does  this  happen  ?  "  he  sought  a  satisfactory 
answer,  indeed,  but  could  not  find  one.  At  this 
point  Darwin  came  to  the  theory's  assistance,  and 
raised  it  from  a  scientific  paradox  to  an  influ- 
ential system,  a  widely  disseminated  Cosmic  con- 
ception. 

The  theory  is  unquestionably  still  very  imper- 
fect ;  it  leaves  an  infinity  of  things  unexplained, 
and  moreover,  not  only  details,  but  leading  and 
cardinal  questions ;  it  rather  indicates  possible 
future    solutions    than    gives    them   already  itself. 


What  is  Our  Conception  oj  the  Universe  ?  205 

But  be  this  as  it  may,  it  contains  something  which 
exerts  an  irresistible  attraction  over  spirits  athirst 
for  truth  and  freedom.  It  resembles  a  railway 
whose  track  is  just  marked  out.  What  abysses 
will  still  require  to  be  filled  in  or  bridged  over, 
what  mountains  to  be  tunnelled,  how  many  a  year 
will  elapse  ere  the  train  full  of  eager  travellers  will 
swiftly  and  comfortably  be  borne  along  and  on- 
wards !  Nevertheless,  we  can  see  the  direction  it 
will  take :  thither  it  shall  and  must  go,  where  the 
flags  are  fluttering  joyfully  in  the  breeze.  Yes, 
joyfully,  in  the  purest,  most  exalted,  spiritual  de- 
light. Yainly  did  we  philosophers  and  critical 
theologians  over  and  over  again  decree  the  exter- 
mination of  miracles  ;  our  ineffectual  sentence  died 
awa}^,  because  we  could  neither  dispense  with 
miraculous  agenc^y,  nor  point  to  any  natural  force 
able  to  supply  it,  where  it  had  hitherto  seemed 
most  indispensable.  Darwin  has  demonstrated  this 
force,  this  process  of  Nature  ;  he  has  opened  the 
door  by  which  a  happier  coming  race  will  finally 
cast  out  miracles.  Every  one  who  knows  what 
miracles  imply  will  praise  him  as  one  of  the  great- 
est benefactors  of  the  human  race. 


2o6  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New. 

51. 

I  have  elsewhere  remarked  that  no  greater  joy 
could  have  been  experienced  by  Goethe  than  to 
have  liv^ed  to  see  the  development  of  the  Darwin- 
ian theory.  For  did  not  the  question  as  to 
Lamarck's  successor  and  the  dispute  between 
Geoffroy  St.  Hilaire  and  Cuvier  in  the  French 
Academy,  appear  to  him  more  important  than  the 
contemporaneous  revolution  of  July,  and  inspire 
him  with  a  detailed  essay  on  the  subject,  which 
was  only  completed  in  the  month  of  his  death  ? 
"  I  have  exerted  myself,"  he  said  at  the  time  to 
Soret,  "  for  fifty  years  in  this  great  affair ;  at  first 
I  stood  alone,  was  then  supported  by  others,  and 
at  last,  to  my  great  joy,  I  found  myself  surpassed 
by  kindred  spirits." 

His  discover}^  of  the  intermaxillary  l^one  of  the 
Imman  upper  jaw,  which  attested  the  continuity 
of  the  organic  development  between  animals  and 
man,  his  ideas  concerning  the  metamorjjhosis  of 
plants,  as  well  as  (subsequently)  of  animals,  are 
generally  known.  In  the  entire  organic  world  it 
seemed  to  him  he  observed  a  general  archetype,  an 
abiding  form,  on  the  one  hand;  on  the  other  an 
iofiirite  mutability  and  changeableness  of  form,  an 


What  is  Our  Conception  of  the  Universe  ?  207 

eternal  versatility  and  variability  of  the  archetype. 
The  chief  determining  cause  of  these  changes  he 
considered  as  being  "the  necessary  relations 
of  organisms  to  the  external  world" — to  dry  or 
humid,  warm  or  cold  conditions;  to  earth,  air,  or 
water.  "The  animal  is  formed  by  circumstances 
for  circumstances.  Thus  the  eagle  is  formed  by 
the  air  for  the  air,  the  mole  for  the  loose  soil  of 
earth,  the  seal  for  the  water."  Even  within  the 
limits  of  single  species  of  animals  Goethe  endea- 
vours to  prove  this  transmutation  as  effected  by 
elemental  influences.  "In  attentively  considering," 
he  remarks  somewhere,  "  the  rodent  species,  I  see, 
that  although  it  is  generically  fixed  and  helcj  fast 
from  within,  yet  externally  it  disports  itself  in 
unbridled  freedom,  specifically  manifesting  itself 
by  mutation  and  transmutation,  and  is  thus 
changed  into  every  variety.  If  we  look  for  the 
creature  in  the  waters,  we  shall  find  it  hog-like  in 
the  morass,  then  a  beaver  constructing  its  habita- 
tion near  running  water,  still  in  need  of  humidity; 
we  shall  next  discover  it  burrowing  in  the  earth, 
or  at  least  preferring  hidden  places ;  then,  when 
at  last  it  emerges  to  the  surface,  it  develops  a 
fondness  for  hopping  and  leaping,  so  that  it  now 
shows    itself  in   an    erect  posture,    and,  almost    a 


2o8  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New. 

biped,    moves   hither   and   thither  with    marvellous 
rapidity.'' 

But  not  only  the  distinct  vegetable  or  animal 
species  by  themselves — the  two  arch -forms  of 
organic  life — but  the  vegetable  and  animal  kingdom 
as  a  whole,  were  scrutinized  by  Goethe  with  a  view 
to  the  possibility  of  comprehending  them  as  the  two 
divergent  branches  of  one  mighty  tree  of  life.  "  If 
we  observe  plants  and  animals  in  their  most  im- 
perfect state,"  he  says,  "they  are  scarcely  distin- 
guishable. One  hfe-centre,  rigid,  moveable,  or  half 
moveable,  is  something  scarcely  perceptible  to  our 
senses.  Whether  these  beginnings,  determinable  in 
both  directions,  may  be  evolved  into  the  plant  by 
the  agency  of  light,  into  the  animal  by  darkness, 
we  do  not  feel  sufficiently  confident  to  decide, 
although  there  is  no  want  of  observations  and 
analogies  on  the  matter.  Thus  much  we  may  say, 
however, — that  the  creatures  which,  as  plants  and 
animals,  gradually  develop  out  of  a  common,  scarcely 
distinguishable  stock,  now  go  on  improving  in  two 
opposite  directions  :  thus  in  the  tree  the  plant  at 
last  becomes  durable  and  rigid,  while  in  man  the 
animal  achieves  the  glory  of  the  utmost  mobility 
and  freedom." 
Concerning  the  origin  of  animal  life,  Eckermann 


What  is  Our  Conception  of  the   Universe  ?  209 

has  preserved  a  remarkable  expression  of  Goetlie's. 
He  was  speaking  of  the  various  races  of  men  with 
the  naturalist  Yon  Martins  of  Munich,  who  had 
paid  Jiim  a  visit.  The  orthodox  naturalist  strove 
to  confirm  the  descent  of  man  from  a  single  pri- 
marily-created pair  by  the  maxim  that  [N^ature 
always  proceeds  with  the  utmost  economy  in  her 
productions.  "  I  must  contradict  this  view,"  replied 
Goethe,  and  straightway  proved  himself  superior 
to  the  professor  of  the  natural  sciences.  ''I 
assert,  on  the  contrary,  that  Nature  always  shows 
herself  lavish,  nay,  extravagant,  and  that  we 
shall  judge  far  more  correctly  of  her,  in  assum- 
ing that  instead  of  a  single  sorry  pair,  she  at 
once  produced  men  by  the  dozen,  nay,  by  the 
hundred.  For  as  soon  as  the  earth  had  attained 
a  certain  degree  of  maturity,  when  the  waters  had 
been  gathered  together,  the  epoch  of  man's  forma- 
tion had  arrived,  and  by  the  power  of  God  men 
originated  everywhere  where  the  soil  admitted  it — 
perhaps  first  on  the  table-lands.  To  assume  that  it 
occurred  thus,  I  consider  reasonable ;  but  to  specu- 
late how  it  came  to  pass  I  consider  a  useless  effort, 
which  we  may  leave  to  those  who  are  fond  of 
busying  themselves  with  insoluble  problems,  and 
who  have  nothing  better  to  do." 

VOL.  I.  P 


2  lo  The  Old  Faith  and  the  Ä^ezv, 

The  veil  which  Goethe  wishes  to  leave  on  this 
process,  is  only  a  remnant  of  that  indefiniteness 
which  continued  to  tinge  his  whole  conception  of 
these  relations.  It  is  nowhere  very  apparent  how 
Goethe  conceived  the  transmutation  and  progres- 
sive development  of  organisms  to  have  taken  place : 
whether  by  the  different  species  gradually  varying 
of  their  own  accord,  changing  themselves  from 
aquatic  to  lacustrine,  and  at  last  to  land  animals ; 
or  whether  Nature  merely  tried  experiments,  first  in 
one,  then  in  another  organization,  shaping  each  of 
these,  however,  afresh,  not  from  preceding  forma- 
tions. If  Goethe  inclined  to  the  latter  hypothesis, 
and  deemed  that  man,  instead  of  developing  out 
of  some  higher  species  of  animal,  had  simply,  so 
to  speak,  started  from  the  blank  soil, — this  un- 
questionably is  a  conception  of  so  monstrous  a  na- 
ture that  it  is  advisable  to  throw  a  veil  over  it. 

62. 

There  is  still  another  German  thinker  whom  we 
have  to  note  as  among  the  precursors  of  Darwin : 
the  same  whom  we  have  encountered  already,  as 
a  predecessor  of  Laplace,  in  regard  to  the  entire 
structure  of  the  universe — the  philosopher  of 
Königsberg.      And  although  the  naturalistic   im- 


What  is  Our  Conception  of  the    Universe  f  2 1 1 

pulse  and  insiglit,  as  well  as  the  fundamental  out- 
lines of  his  Cosmic  conception,  had  been  Goethe's 
before  the  appearance  of  Kant's  Critique  of  Pure 
Reason,  nevertheless  the  influence  of  this  epochal 
M^ork  can  scarcely  fail  to  be  recognized  in  those 
more  definite  results  which  we  have  just  detailed. 
Kant  maintains  an  entirely  critical  reserve, 
holding  himself  aloof  from  either  the  assumption 
of  a  world-creating  deity,  acting  according  to  con- 
scious aims,  or  that  of  an  unconscious  adaptation 
of  formative  IN'ature — a  teleology,  so  to  speak, 
immanent  in  her  mechanism. — He  wished  only  to 
establish  that  man,  by  reason  of  the  nature  of  his 
faculties  of  intuition  and  perception,  can  only 
grasp  the  organic  forms  of  Nature  by  calling  to 
his  aid  the  conception  of  design.  But  he  never- 
theless could  not  entirely  resist  the  temptation  to 
overstep,  if  only  for  one  moment,  the  line  he 
had  so  carefully  drawn,  in  order  to  "  venture  on  an 
experiment  of  the  understanding.''  ''The  resem- 
blance of  so  many  species  of  animals  conform- 
ably to  a  certain  general  scheme,"  he  says, 
"  which  seems  to  underlie  not  only  the  structure 
of  their  skeletons,  but  the  arrangement  of  their 
other  parts  as  well,  and  where  the  admirable 
simplicity  of  the  outline  has  been  capable  of  pro- 


212  TJie  Old  Faith  and  the,  Nczv. 

ducing  so  great  a  variety  of  species,  bj  the  dimi- 
nution of  some  and  the  expansion  of  other  parts, 
by  the  folding  up  or  unfolding  of  others,  admits 
at  least  one  ray  of  hope,  if  only  a  feeble  one,  that 
here  something  may  possibly  be  attained  to  by 
the  principle  of  J^Tature's  mechanism.''  For  he  is 
of  opinion  that  this  analogy  of  the  forms  of  Na- 
ture strengthens  the  supposition  that  they  may 
naturally  be  allied  to  each  other  by  descent,  and 
justifies  the  assumption  of  a  gradual  development 
of  organic  beings,  from  man  down  to  the  zoo- 
phyte, from  this  even  to  the  mosses  and  lichen, 
and  tliuö  at  last  to  the  lowest  degree  of  I^ature 
by  us  perceptible — mere  matter,  whence,  as  well 
as  from  the  mechanical  laws  by  which  she  forms 
crystals,  the  whole  mechanism  of  ISTature  (which  is 
so  incomprehensible  to  us  in  organic  beings,  that 
we  deem  ourselves  obliged  to  have  recourse  to 
another  principle)  seems  to  be  derived/' 

Specially  remarkable  in  its  application  to  man 
is  an  observation  of  Kant,  in  a  note  towards  the 
conclusion  of  his  Anthropology.  He  mentions 
the  fact  that  of  all  animals,  new-born  man  alone 
announces  his  entrance  on  existence  by  cries. 
This,  although  not  signifying  much  in  the  jDres- 
ent   condition    of  civilization,  which    even   among 


W/iat  is  Our  Conception  of  the   Universe  /  2 1 3 

savages  ensures  a  certain  protection  by  tlie 
family,  in  the  preceding  rude  state  of  nature 
would  have  acted  as  a  signal  attracting  wild 
beasts,  and  thus  have  endangered  the  preserva- 
tion of  the  species.  In  the  prim?eval  condition, 
therefore,  this  crying  of  the  new-born  could  not 
have  taken  place,  but  could  only  have  occurred 
in  the  second  period,  when  no  longer  dangerous. 
"This  observation,''  Kant  adds,  "leads  us  far — 
for  example,  to  the  thought  as  to  whether  this 
second  period  may  not  be  followed,  in  the  rear 
of  great  revolutions  of  T^ature,  by  a  still  third 
period,  when  an  orang  utang  or  a  chimpanzee 
might  be  enabled  to  develop  his  various  organs 
into  the  human  structure,  his  brain  into  an  or- 
gan of  thouglit,  which  might  then  gradually  be 
further  develoj^ed  by  social  culture." 


The  external  outlines  of  the  theory  of  Lamarck 
and  Darwin  are  thus  already  indicated,  and  several 
of  the  springs  inserted  by  which  its  internal  motion 
is  regulated.  As  the  animal,  according  to  Goethe,  is 
formed  by  circumstances  for  circumstances,  thus, 
according  to  Lamarck,  the  eyes  of  the   mole   are 


2 1 4  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New. 

stunted  by  its  residence  in  the  earth,  while  the 
swan  has  acquired  its  webbed  feet  through  the 
necessity  of  rowing,  and  its  long  flexible  neck  by 
dint  of  searching  for  its  food  at  the  bottom  of  the 
water.  The  world  shook  its  head  at  such  explana- 
tions ;  and  Darwin  also,  although  convinced  of  the 
substantial  correctness  of  the  theory,  yet  considei-ed 
these  confirmations  of  it  insufficient. 

A  hobby  of  his,  it  seems,  first  placed  in  his  hands 
the  means  of  discovering  more  tenable  ones.  Being 
an  Englishman,  and  an  English  landowner,  he  was  a 
pigeon-fancier;  and  as  such  he  endeavoured  to  pro- 
cure all  possible  varieties  of  this  fowl,  as  well  as  to 
breed  such  himself.  In  this  way  he  discovered,  that 
foi'ms  of  development  which  at  first  sight  so  widely 
diverge  as  to  appear  to  belong  to  different  species, 
jiay  yet,  in  the  course  of  several  generations,  be 
produced  from  a  simple  aboriginal  stock  by  artificial 
breeding.  The  fancier,  for  example,  finds  amongst 
his  common  pigeons  one  specimen  which  possesses 
an  additional  feather  in  its  tail,  or  a  somewhat 
larger  crop  than  the  rest;  immediately  he  looks  out 
for  a  second  specimen  for  each  of  these,  in  the  other 
^ex,  in  which  the  same  deviation  may  have  occurred; 
he  pairs  both  of  these  couples;  and  it  would  be 
strange  if  amongst  their  progeny  specimens  should 


What  is  Our  Conception  of  the  Uniuerse  .^215 

not  appear,  in  time,  with  their  tail-feathers  still 
further  multiplied,  perhaps  also  enlarged,  and  crops 
more  markedly  inflated.  Thus,  in  the  course  of 
many  years  and  generations,  the  fan-tail  on  the  one 
hand,  the  pouter  on  the  other,  as  well  as  all  the 
other  varieties,  have  been  bred  from  a  simple  abo- 
riginal stock ;  the  variations  extending  at  last,  from 
plumage  and  colour,  to  the  structure  of  the  bones, 
and  the  habits  of  life. 

Similar  results  are  notoriously  produced  by  a  like 
procedure  in  the  case  of  other  domestic  animals» 
such  as  horses,  dogs,  sheep,  and  cattle,  as  well  as 
with  plants,  especially  flowers.  This  is  rendered 
possible  by  the  law  of  Nature,  already  adverted  to, 
that  organic  types,  with  all  their  immutability  in 
the  whole,  are  yet  mutable  in  their  parts,  and  that 
those  deviations  are  inherited  by  their  descendants  ; 
but  those  striking  results — I  mean  the  astonishing 
diversity  of  the  selected  varieties  from  the  parent- 
stock — are  actually  produced  by  the  arbitrary 
interference  of  man,  by  pairing  specimens  which  an- 
swer his  purposes,  and  preventing  their  intercross- 
ing with  others.  Man  by  artificial  selection,  produces 
varieties  in  regard  to  which  it  at  last  becomes  a  mere 
dispute  about  words  to  refuse  recognition  as  new 
species :  if  something  similar  to  this  selection  could 


2 1 6  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New, 

be  proved  to  have  taken  place  in  the  domain  of 
unfettered  Nature,  we  should  see  our  way  to  explain 
the  rai^ification  of  organic  life  into  the  diverse 
forms  and  species  that  we  have  before  our  eyes. 

54. 

Is  there,  then,  something  in  Nature  causing  the 
variations  which  have  arisen  in  generations  of 
j)lants  and  animals  to  be  preserved  and  increased  ? 
causing,  further,  as  a  consequence  of  this,  certain 
specially  oro^aiiized  individuals  to  propagate  them- 
selves in  the  course  of  generations?  and  where 
are  we  to  ask  for  this  principle,  this  universal 
leaven  ? 

The  direction  in  which  the  Englishman  searched 
for  and  found  this  is  very  characteristic.  He  was 
under  no  necessity  to  search  for  it  at  all,  as  every- 
where in  his  native  land  he  saw  around  him 
energetic  industry,  and  the  astonishing  effects  of  his 
principle.  He  only  needed  to  transfer  competition 
from  the  world  of  man  into  the  household  of  Nature. 
Darwin's  "  Struggle  for  Existence "  is  nothing  else 
but  the  expansion  of  that  into  a  law  of  Nature, 
which  we  have  lonof  since  recoi^nized  as  a  law  of 
our  social  and  industrial  life.  We  see  organic 
beings    possessing    the    impulse   and    capacity    to 


What  is  Our  Conception  of  the  Universe  ?  2i^ 

produce  a  far  greater  number  of  offspring  than  can 
in  the  long  run  find  adequate  subsistence.  Not 
only  is  there  competition  between  animals  for  the 
pasture,  but  even  between  grapes  and  trees  for  the 
soil  and  the  sun.  If  all  cannot  subsist,  but  only 
some,  those  few  will,  as  a  rule,  be  the  stronger, 
more  efficient  and  dexterous  ones.  If  the  weaker 
the  clumsier,  perish  early,  the  better-equipped  will 
be  the  principal  propagators  of  their  kind.  If  this 
process  goes  on  uninterruptedly  for  several  genera- 
tions, more  and  more  variation  will  continue  to 
present  itself  among  the  descendants  from  the 
parent-stock. 

In  this  way  races  of  animals  may  acquire  limbs, 
weapons,  or  even  ornaments,  not  possessed  by  the 
progenitors.  Goethe  says,  that  in  future  it  will  no 
longer  be  asserted  that  the  horns  of  the  bull  were 
given  him  to  butt  with,  but  that  we  shall  enquire, 
rather,  how  he  came  by  horns  wherewith  to  butt  ? 
Lamarck  tausrht  that  the  horns  of  the  bull  were 
owing  to  his  love  and  habit  of  butting.  According 
to  Darwin,  this  does  not  take  place  in  quite  so 
simple  a  fashion.  He  interpolates  his  "  Struggle  for 
Existence."  Let  us  suppose  a  herd  of  cattle  of 
primaeval  time  to  be  still  destitute  of  horns — only 
possessed  of  powerful  necks  and  protruding  foreheads. 


2 18  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New. 

The  herd  is  attacked  by  beasts  of  prey ;  it  defends 
itself  by  running  against  them  and  butting  with 
the  head.  This  butting  will  be  the  more  vigorous, 
the  fitter  the  bull  to  resist  the  beasts  of  prey,  the 
harder  the  forehead  with  which  he  butts.  Should 
this  hardening  in  any  individual  have  developed 
to  an  incipient  horny  accretion,  then  such  an  indi- 
vidual would  have  the  best  chance  of  preserving  its 
existence.  If  the  less  well-equipped  bulls  of  such 
a  herd  were  torn  to  pieces,  then  the  individual  thus 
equipped  would  propagate  the  species.  Unques- 
tionably there  would  be  some,  at  least,  among  its 
descendants  in  whose  case  the  paternal  equipment 
would  be  repeated;  and  if  on  renewed  attacks 
these  very  ones  again  survived,  then,  little  by 
little,  by  transmission  of  this  weapon  to  tlie  other 
sex  also,  a  completely  horned  species  would  be 
formed ;  especially  if  this  other  sex  would,  of  its 
own  accord,  give  the  preference  to  males  thus 
ornamented  :  and  here  Darwin's  theory  of  natu- 
ral selection  is  supplemented  by  the  so-called  sexual 
selection,  to  which  he  recently  has  devoted  a  special 
work. 


What  is  Our  Conception  of  the  Universe  .^219 

55. 

This,  in  the  first  place,  however,  seems  to  point  to 
a  development  and  improvement  within  the  limits 
of  a  given  species,  not  to  a  differentiation  into 
many.  But  in  the  domain  of  industry,  com- 
petition impels  energy  not  only  vertically,  but 
laterally  as  well.  If  all  the  English  manufacturers 
devoted  themselves  exclusively  to  the  manufacture 
of  cotton,  they  would  realize  but  poor  profits.  On 
that  account  some  have  taken  to  wool,  others  to 
silk,  others  again  to  iron  or  steel.  The  increasing 
competition  among  physicians  is  the  cause  that  the 
rising  men  have  more  and  more  confined  themselves 
to  specialities,  the  one  making  this,  the  other  that 
special  organ  of  the  human  body  his  branch  of  study. 

It  is  not  otherwise  in  Nature.  Suppose  a  crowd 
of  competitors  to  drive  a  certain  number  of  her- 
bivorous animals  from  a  rich  plain  on  to  the  hills ; 
the  ousted  oues  grow  more  or  less  accustomed  to 
the  scantier  food,  the  stony  soil,  the  keener  air ; 
after  the  lapse  of  generations,  they  have  come  to 
be  thoroughly  at  home  in  their  new  circumstances, 
but  this  has  been  accompanied  by  correspondino- 
alterations  in  tlieir  structure :  they  have  grown 
slimmer,  fitter  for  climbing  and  lea])ing,  keener  of 


220  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New, 

siglit ;  finally,  a  new  species  will  have  been  evolved, 
Or  let  us  take  one  of  the  species  of  birds.  The 
genus  of  crossbills  is  divided,  as  we  know,  into  fir- 
crossbills  and  pine-crossbills ;  the  former  a  more 
vigorous  species,  which  feeds  on  the  seeds  it  pain- 
fully secures  from  the  fir-cones,  the  latter  a  feebler 
kind,  which,  by  reason  of  its  weaker  beak,  finds  itself 
consigned  to  the  more  delicate  pine-cones.  Here 
the  supposition  arises  that  the  more  robust  species 
developed  itself  in  tracts  of  country  where  only 
the  coarser  kind  of  food  was  found;  but  we  may 
also  assume  that  the  want  produced  by  too  great  a 
competition  induced  the  stronger  individuals  of  the 
entire  species  to  struggle  for  the  most  difiicult  prize, 
which  those  weaklings  could  dispute  with  them  less 
and  less  in  every  successive  generation. 

56. 

So  far,  so  good ;  but  as  long  as  the  now  improved 
variety  inhabits  the  same  forest,  the  same  plain,  as 
the  old  stock,  specimens  of  the  one  must  perpetually 
be  pairing  with  specimens  of  the  other,  in  conse- 
quence of  which  the  descendants  will  always  revert 
to  the  type  of  the  original  species,  thus  impeding 
the  independent  evolution  of  the  new  type.  The 
separation  of  the  individuals  in  which  a  tendency 


What  is  Our  Conception  of  the  Universe  ?  221 

to  variation  from  the  common  kind  lias  manifested 
itself,  tliis  isolation,  by  which  alone  artificial  selec- 
tion can  attain  its  results,  seems  to  be  wanting  in 
Nature,  and  similar  results,  in  consequence,  impos- 
sible with  her. 

"  It  is  not  wanting  in  Nature,"  remarked  a  German 
naturalist,  but  here  is  a  gap  in  the  theory.  Un- 
questionably the  origin  of  new  species  is  not 
possible  without  isolation;  but  Nature  possesses 
barriers  enough  and  to  spare  by  which  she  renders 
this  possible.  Moritz  Wagner,  our  great  traveller, 
remembered  having  observed  in  Algeria  that  the 
rivers  which  run  from  the  Atlas  range  to  the 
Mediterranean,  without  being  very  broad,  neverthe- 
less serve  as  distinct  barriers.  He  found  certain  of 
the  smaller  rodents  and  reptiles,  certain  species 
of  beetles  and  snails,  to  be  confined  by  the  river 
Schelif,  which  they  never  crossed.  Broader  streams, 
such  as  the  Euphrates,  the  Mississippi,  or  a  marine 
channel  like  the  Strait  of  Gibraltar,  exercise  a  yet 
more  potent  influence;  but  the  most  formidable 
barriers  of  all  are  compact  mountain  ranges,  such  as 
the  Pyrenees,  or  the  Caucasus.  Here,  on  the  one 
side  and  the  other — save  for  the  species  which  man 
has  arbitrarily  transplanted  or  involuntarily  taken 
with  him — a   marked  diflference  is  perceptible  in 


222  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New. 

the  less  mobile  species,  and  even  the  flora  partici- 
pate in  the  variations  of  the  fauna.  For  the  seeds 
of  plants  as  well  as  animals  (excepting  the  light- 
winged  of  both  kinds)  but  rarely  and  casually,  and 
then  with  great  difficulty,  succeed  in  crossing  an  arm 
of  the  sea,  or  surmounting  a  towering  range  of  moun- 
tains. But  the  instinct  to  do  this  is  in  them :  the 
migratory  instinct  is  possessed  by  animals  as  well 
as  man;  that  of  dissemination  by  plants :  and  with 
all  of  them  this  is  the  result  of  the  struggle  for 
existence.  Competition,  with  chance  superadded, 
which  now  and  again  casts  one  or  more  individuals 
into  remote  districts,  is  the  true  founder  of  colonies. 
Let  us  imagine,  for  example,  a  pair  of  beetles  trans- 
ported by  a  tempest  or  a  boat  across  the  Schelif 
or  the  Euphrates ;  or  again,  a  couple  of  reptiles — -or 
but  a  pregnant  female  of  each  kind — surmounting 
the  Andes,  the  Pyrenees:  The  wanderers  bring 
their  individual  peculiarities  with  them,  which 
everywhere  distinguish  every  single  being  from 
every  other  in  the  world  of  life,  and  henceforth  are 
able  to  develop  uncrossed ;  and  as  the  new  abode 
usually  entails  at  the  same  time  climatic  differences 
and  pai-tial  changes  of  food,  variations  from  the 
species  which  remained  in  the  original  home  must 
in  the  long  run  occur.     But  the  interveninoj  barriers 


What  is  Our  Conception  of  the  Uj  liver se  ?  223 

prevent  specimens  of  the  latter  from  following  those 
which  have  migrated.  Generations  must  elapse  ere 
a  second  couple  is  successful  enough  to  follow  the 
first ;  and  in  the  meanwhile  the  descendants  of  that 
first  migrating  pair  have  long  ago  developed  into 
a  new  species.  Only  thus  are  we  able,  Wagner 
thinks,  to  account  for  the  fact  that  the  same  species 
do  not  occur  on  the  farther  side  of  such  boundaries, 
but  in  their  stead  very  similar  representative  species. 
Means  and  ways  of  this  sort,  which  were  and  are 
still  employed  by  Nature  to  differentiate  herself — or, 
to  express  it  subjectively,  such  explanations  of  the 
variety  of  organic  forms  on  the  earth — will  be  found 
more  and  more  as  the  investigation  of  Nature  pro- 
ceeds ;  they  do  not  exclude  one  another,  but  tend  all 
together  to  the  solution  of  the  great  enigma. 


END  OF  VOL  I. 


I 


TEE  OLD  FAITH  AND  THE  NEW. 

VOL  II. 

57. 

n  primaeval  times  a  chief  cause  of  those  variations 
lay,  doubtless,  in  the  evolutions  which  the  surface 
of  our  planet  underwent,  during  long  periods  of  time, 
in  regard  to  temperature,  its  atmospherical  consti- 
tution, and  the  distribution  of  water  and  land. 

The  documentary  history  of  these  changes,  of  the 
development  of  the  earth's  surface,  is,  as  we  know, 
preserved  in  the  succession  of  her  strata,  and  the 
remains  of  extinct  plants  and  animals  contained  in 
them.  These  histories,  indeed,  like  those  of  a  Livy 
or  a  Tacitus,  up  to  the  present  time  lie  before  us  in 
a  very  fragmentary  condition,  and  full  of  considerable 
breaks,  partly  because  many  of  the  organic  remains 
have  actually  perished  on  account  of  their  innate 
fragility,  partly  because  the  archives  of  the  earth 
have  been  consulted — or  the  soil,  in  other  words, 
examined  below  the  surface — in  only  a  few  spots. 
VOL.  II.  B 


2  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New. 

Their  succession  of  allied  forms,  nevertheless,  not 
only  confirms  the  theory  of  evolution  as  a  whole, 
but  reveals  to  us  also,  if  only  we  do  not  suffer 
ourselves  to  be  led  astray  by  apparent  deviations,  a 
generally  progressive  development. 

Cuvier  already  perceived  that  the  difierence 
between  the  fossil  and  existing  species  of  animals 
increases  with  the  depth  of  the  strata  in  which  the 
former  are  deposited.  But  that  the  later  forms  of 
plants,  as  well  as  of  animals,  are  in  general  more 
perfect  (although  some  of  the  earlier  ones  surpassed 
them  in  bulk  and  power,  and  some  few  actually  re- 
trograde formations  are  not  wanting)  may  be  verified 
by  ocular  inspection,  as  we  ascend  from  stratum  to 
stratum.  Thus,  as  regards  the  primaeval  flora,  we  find 
that  the  original  algse,  or  seaweed,  are  followed  first 
by  fern-like  bloomless  shrubs,  then,  among  flowering 
plants,  first  by  the  more  imperfect  species  of  fir, 
finally  by  foliated  trees  and  other  perfect  flowering 
plants.  Thus  also,  as  regards  animals,  we  find  only 
the  most  inferior  kinds  in  the  lowest  strata ;  but  as 
we  ascend,  mollusca  in  continuously  progressive  de- 
velopment; after  these  Crustacea;  then  among  verte- 
brates, successively  fish,  reptiles,  birds,  and  at  last 
mammals  ;  and  these  classes,  moreover,  so  arranged 
that  here  also  the    less  perfect  forms  precede  the 


What  is  Our  Conception  of  the  Universe  ?     3 

more  perfect,  till  at  last,  in  the  highest  strata,  we 

find  vestiges  of  man. 

Man,  it  is  true,  did  not  come  on  the  scene  quite  so 
late  as  until  recently  was  taken  for  granted.     His 
first  appearance  was  not  at  the  present  era  of  the 
earth's   development,  and   with   the   present  fauna. 
The  discoveries  which  have  been  recently  made  in  va- 
rious caves  of  France,  Belgium,  England,  and   Ger- 
many, no  longer  permit  any  doubt  of  man's  existence 
in  primseval  times,  as  a  contemporary  of  the  mammoth, 
the  cave-bear,  and  extinct  species  of  the  hyyena  and 
rhinoceros.    But  on  this  account  also  he  first  appears 
in  an  extremely  impei'fect  condition  :  the  oldest  of 
the  human  skulls  that  have  been  discovered  show 
a  formation   approximating  to  the  brute,  and  are 
suri-ounded   by  miserable   flint   tools,  and   human 
as  well  as  animal  bones,  whose   cloven  condition 
makes  it  probable  that  these  our  ancestors  not  only 
feasted   on  the  marrow  and  flesh  of  the  animals, 
but    also   on   those   of   the    men   they   had   slain. 
And  if  we  consider  that  it  is  but  yesterday  that 
these  discoveries  concerning  man's  greater  antiquity 
and  primitive  condition  have  been  made,  it  become» 
highly  probable  that  we  have  not  yet  by  a  long 
way  reached  the  end  of  these  revelations ;  that  in 
future  we  may  discover  him  at  perhaps  a  still  lower 


4  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New, 

stage  of  his  development,  and  much  more  nearly 
akin  to  his  four-footed  progenitors. 

58. 

For  after  the  enumeration  of  the  preceding  facts, 
no  doubt  can  be  entertained  as  to  the  derivation 
of  mankind  from  a  lower  order  of  existence;  and  if 
we  now  look  around  us  for  that  species  which,  by 
presenting  the  closest  affinities  to  man,  offers  at  the 
same  time  the  smallest  chasm  to  bridge,  we  shall 
inevitably  find  ourselves  confronted  with  the  higher 
species  of  apes. 

Thus  at  last  we  arrive  at  the  much  decried 
doctrine  of  the  descent  of  man  from  the  monkey, 
the  saiive  qui  pent  not  only  of  the  orthodox  and 
the  sensitive,  but  also  of  many  an  otherwise  toler- 
ably unprejudiced  man.  He  who  does  not  find 
this  doctrine  godless,  yet  finds  it  tasteless :  if  not 
an  outrage  on  the  dignity  of  revelation,  it  is  at 
least  one  on  the  dignity  of  man.  Each  to  his  taste : 
we  know  there  are  plenty  of  people  who  prefer 
a  Count  or  a  Baron,  impoverished  by  his  dissolute 
life,  to  a  citizen  who  has  won  his  way  by  dint  of 
energy  and  talent.  Our  taste  is  the  reverse ;  and 
therefore  we  are  also  of  opinion  that  mankind  has 
far  more  cause  for  pride,  if  from  miserable  brutish 


What  is  Our  Conception  of  the  Universe  ?     5 

beginnings  it  has  gradually,  by  the  incessant  labour 
of  countless  generations,  worked  its  way  up  to  its 
present  standpoint,  than  if  it  is  descended  from  a 
pair  who,  created  in  the  image  of  God,  were  cast 
out  of  paradise,  and  even  now  is  far  from  having 
attained  the  level  from  which  it  originally  sank. 
As  nothing  is  so  thoroughly  depressing  as  the 
certainty  of  never  being  able  entirely  to  recover 
a  forfeited  advantao-e,  nothino^,  on  the  other  hand, 
is  so  inspiriting  to  enterprise  as  to  have  a  path 
before  us,  the  height  and  scope  of  which  it  is  im- 
possible to  foresee. 

I  will  quote  here  the  very  words  of  the  theory 
from  Darwin's  latest  work  : — 

"The  greater  number  of  naturalists,"  he  says, 
"  have  followed  Blumenbach  and  Cuvier,  and  have 
placed  man  in  a  separate  order,  under  the  title  of 
the  Bimana.  Recently  many  of  our  best  naturalists 
have  recurred  to  the  view  first  propounded  by 
Linnseus,  and  have  placed  man  in  the  same  order 
with  the  Quadrumana,  under  the  title  of  the 
Primates.  Our  great  anatomist  and  philosopher, 
Professor  Huxley,  (Darwin  is  still  speaking,)  has 
fully  discussed  this  subject,  and  has  come  to  the 
conclusion  that  man  in  all  parts  of  his  organization 
differs  less  from  the  higher  apes    than  these    do 


6  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New, 

from  the  lower  members  of  tlie  same  group.  Con- 
sequently, there  is  no  justification  for  placing  man 
in  a  distinct  order.  The  anthropomorphous  apes, 
namely,  the  goiilla,  chimpanzee,  orang,  and  Hylo- 
bates,  are  separated  as  a  distinct  sub-group  from  the 
other  Old  World  monkeys  by  most  naturalists.  If 
this  be  admitted,  we  may  infer  that  some  ancient 
member  of  the  anthropomorphous  sub-group  gave 
birth  to  man.  No  doubt  man,  in  comparison 
with  most  of  his  allies,  has  undergone  an  extraor- 
dinary amount  of  modification,  chiefly  in  con- 
sequence of  his  greatly- developed  brain  and  erect 
position  ;  nevertheless  we  should  bear  in  mind  that 
he  is  but  one  of  several  exceptional  forms  of 
Primates.  It  is  probable  that  Africa  was  formerly 
inhabited  by  extinct  apes,  closely  allied  to  the 
gorilla  and  chimpanzee ;  and  as  these  two  species 
are  now  man's  nearest  allies,  it  is  more  proba- 
ble that  our  early  progenitors  lived  on  the  African 
continent  than  elsewhere.  We  must,  however, 
beware  of  assuming  the  identity  of  the  original 
ancestor  of  the  Simiadse,  including  the  human 
species,  with  any  existing  ape,  or  even  a  very  strong 
resemblance  between  them."  Darwin  explains  the 
great  gap  which  undeniably  exists  between  man 
and   the   higher    species    of   apes   of  the   present 


What  is  Our  Conception  of  the  Universe  ?     7 

day,  from  the  extinction  of  intermediate  forms,  and 
the  deposition  of  their  fossil  remains  in  Africa  or 
Asia,  hitherto  so  imperfectly  explored  by  geologists. 
He  points  out,  at  the  same  time,  that  this  gap 
would  have  appeared  yet  greater  if  the  lowest  and 
most  ape-like  races  of  men  on  the  one  hand,  and 
the  large  anthropoid  apes  on  the  other,  had  been 
entirely  exterminated. 

Schopenhauer   also   speculated  on  this  question 
in  the  same  sense;  and  while  Darwin  and  his  suc- 
cessors assume  the  primaeval  progenitor  of  man  to 
have  been  an  old  extinct  branch  of  the  anthropoid 
group   of    apes,   he   unhesitatingly   points   to  the 
chimpanzee  as  the  common  ancestor  of  the  black 
African  or  Ethiopian  race,  and  to  the  pongo  as  that 
of  the  brown  Asiatic,  or  Mongolian,  while  he  regarded 
the  white  Caucasian  as  an  offshoot  bleached  by  a 
colder    climate.     The   original   formation   of    man 
could,  according  to  him,  only  have  taken  place  in 
the  Old  World,  and,  moreover,  only  m  the  tropical 
zone-  first,  because  in  Australia  Nature  never  pro- 
duced a  monkey  at  all,  and  in  America  only  the 
lone-tailed,  not  the  short-tailed,  far  less  the  highest, 
tail-less  species  of  monkey,  secondly,  because  new- 
formed  man  would  have    perished    in   the   colder 
zones  during  the  first  winter. 


8  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New. 

59. 

Shortest  steps  and  longest  periods  of  time,  we 
may  say,  are  the  magic  formulae  by  which  Natural 
Science  at  present  solves  the  mystery  of  the  uni- 
verse; they  are  the  two  talismans  by  whose  aid 
she  quite  naturally  unlocks  the  portals  formerly 
reputed  to  fly  asunder  at  the  sole  bidding  of 
miracle. 

Thus,  to  begin,  for  example,  with  periods  of  time, 
the  6,000  years  which  were  counted  in  the  Chris- 
tian schools  since  the  so-called  creation  of  the  world 
and  man,  have  long  ago  grown  to  be  as  many  tens, 
if  not  hundreds,  of  thousands  of  years,  since  the 
formation  of  man  alone,  notwithstanding  all  the 
difficulties  attendant  on  a  correct  estimation  of  the 
position  of  human  remains  beneath  alluvial  soil, 
needing  long  periods  for  its  formation.  This  estimate 
rests  on  an  incomparably  surer  basis  than  did  the 
old  one,  based  on  the  Biblical  text,  of  the  ao-es 
of  the  patriarchs. 

The  discoveries  of  the  lake  habitations,  the  flint 
tools  with  which  men  had  to  make  a  shift  before 
they  discovered  the  art  of  working  in  coi)per,  and 
subsequently  iron,  open  out  a  vista  into  antiquity  in 
comparison  with  which  that  of  the  Egyptian  Pyra- 


What  is  Our  Conception  of  the  Universe  ?     9 

mids  may  be  considered  as  young,  and  of  modern 
date.  But  this  stone-era  already  bears  a  certain 
stamp  of  civilization,  as,  in  fact/ must  every  period 
in  which  man,  besides  using  his  natural  tools  and 
weapons,  his  arms,  nails  and  teeth,  has  recourse  to 
such  as  he  seizes  in  the  external  world,  and  further 
still,  instead  of  leaving  these  in  their  original  condi- 
tion, as  stones  and  branches  of  trees,  fashions  them 
artificially,  as  those  flint  tools  alluded  to.  Such 
enormous  periods  of  time  are  in  due  proportion  to 
the  prodigious  interval  which  had  to  be  measured 
by  man  from  the  monkey-stage  to  that  even  of  the 
lowest  savage,  who  devoured  not  only  the  flesh  of 
beasts,  but  of  men. 

And  this  immense  progress  leads  us  to  under- 
stand, on  the  other  hand,  its  splitting  up  into  a 
multitude  of  minute,  imperceptible  gradations  of 
progressive  development.  Divide  et  hnjpera  is  also 
the  watchword  here.  It  was  doubtless  no  small 
achievement  v^hen  in  yon  apelike  horde,  which  we 
must  consider  as  the  cradle  of  the  human  race,  the 
thoroughly  erect  walk  became  the  fashion,  instead 
of  the  waddle,  or  partially  quadrupedal  gait  of  the 
higher  apes ;  but  step  by  step  it  went  on  improving, 
and  time,  at  least,  was  no  consideration.  Neither 
did  they  lack  a  motive  for  becoming  accustomed  to 


to  The  Old  FaitJi  and  the  New, 

the  new  posture,  which  left  the  hands  free,  in  the 
first  place,  to  carry  stones  and  clubs,  next,  for  the 
fabrication  and  handling  of  artificial  utensils,  and 
became  thus  useful  in  the  struggle  for  exis:i3nce. 
More  astounding  still  does  this  progress  appear 
from  the  harsh  scream  of  the  ape  to  articulate 
human  speech.  Nevertheless,  like  most  of  the 
higher  animals,  monkeys  also  possess  some  sort  of 
language  :  they  utter  warning  cries  at  the  approach 
of  danger ;  and  express  diverse  emotions  by  diverse 
sounds,  which  are  understood  by  their  kind.  It  is 
true,  we  do  not  perceive  a  further  development  of 
this  capacity  among  any  of  the  present  species  of 
monke^^s;  whatever  else  he  may  learn,  if  brought 
into  contact  with  man,  the  monkey  certainly  does 
not  learn  to  speak.  But  he  by  no  means  lacks  the 
organs  of  speech  which  with  his  cousins  have 
developed  into  language ;  and  besides  this,  there  is 
no  question  here  of  the  present  ape,  but  of  a 
primaeval  stock,  which  amongst  its  ramifications 
counted  one  whose  higher  capacity  of  development 
led  him  in  time  to  humanity,  while  the  remaining 
branches  sundered  into  the  diverse  species  of  mon- 
keys, in  part  existing  at  present.  Ere  that  pre- 
human branch,  little  by  httle,  elaborated  something 
resembling   a  language,   periods    of  immeasurable 


What  is  Our  Conception  of  the  Universe  ?    1 1 

duration  may  have  elapsed ;  but  after  he  had  once 
hit  upon  speech,  in  however  imperfect  a  condition, 
the  speed  of  his  progress  was  vastly  accelerated. 
The  capacity  of  thought,  which,  in  the  proper 
sense,  first  occurs  with  the  formation  of  language, 
must  have  acted  on  the  brain,  enlarged  and  elabo- 
rated it ;  and  this  development  of  the  brain  again 
reacting  on  all  the  energies  of  the  strange  inter- 
mediate creature,  must  have  given  it  a  decided 
superiority  over  its  allied  species,  and  thus  accom- 
plished its  metamorphosis  into  man. 

60. 
Metamorphosis  of  the  animal  into  the  man ! 
Strange  that  not  only  laymen,  but  naturalists  even, 
should  believe  in  the  incarnation  of  God,  but  find 
the  metamorphosis  of  the  animal,  the  progressive 
development  of  monkey  to  man,  incredible !  Very 
different  views  on  this  subject  were  held  by  the 
ancients,  and  still  obtain  in  the  far  East.  The 
doctrine  of  metempsychosis  knits  man  and  beast 
together  there,  and  unites  the  whole  of  Nature 
in  one  sacred  and  mysterious  bond.  The  breach 
between  the  two  was  opened  in  the  first  place 
by  Judaism,  with  its  hatred  of  the  Gods  of  Nature  ; 
next  by  the  dualism  of  Christianity.     It  is  remark- 


1 2  The  Old  Faiih  and  the  New, 

able  that  at  present  a  deeper  sympathy  with  the 
animal  world  should  have  arisen  among  the  more 
civilized  nations,  which  manifests  itself  here  and  there 
in  societies  for  the  prevention  of  cruelty  to  animals. 
It  is  thus  apparent  that  what  on  the  one  hand  is 
the  product  of  modern  science,  the  giving  up  of 
the  spiritualistic  isolation  of  man  from  Nature, 
reveals  itself  simultaneously  tJirough  the  channel  of 
popular  sentiment; 

In  spite  of  this,  however,  not  only  does  public 
opinion  in  general,  but — if  the  expression  be  per- 
missible— orthodox  science  also  persist  in  regarding 
the  human  and  animal  world  as  two  separate 
kingdoms,  the  yawning  chasm  between  which  no 
bridge  can  span,  for  the  simple  reason  of  man  only 
being  man  by  reason  of  possessing  a  something  "per 
se,  from  the  beginning  of  creation,  which  is  and 
always  must  be  wanting  in  the  animal.  According 
to  the  Mosaic  cosmogony,  God  made  the  animals,  so 
to  speak,  out  of  one  piece ;  as  to  man,  however,  he 
first  formed  his  body  of  the  dust  of  the  ground, 
then  he  breathed  the  breath  of  life  into  his 
nostrils,  "and  man  became  a  living  soul."  The 
living  soul  of  the  ancient  Hebrew  writer  was, 
in  course  of  time,  transformed  by  Christianity  into 
an  immortal  soul,  a  being  of  quite  another  kind  and 


What  is  Our  Concept  ioii  of  the  Universe  ?     1 3 

dignity  from  those  common  souls  which  it  is  true 
could  not  be  denied  to  animals.  Or  if,  peradventure, 
the  soul  was  allowed  to  be  common  to  animals  and 
man,  the  latter  had  spirit  superadded  to  it,  this 
being  the  immaterial  principle  of  the  higher  intel- 
lectual and  moral  faculties,  which  distinguishes  him 
from  the  animal. 

This,  however,  in  the  domain  of  science,  is  con- 
tradicted by  the   unmistakable   circumstance  that 
the  capacities  of  animals  differ  from  the  human  race 
only  in  degree,  not  in  kind,    Voltaire  justly  remarks 
that  animals  possess  sensation,  conception,  memory, 
and  on  the  other   hand  desire   and   motion,   even 
as  we ;  and  yet  that  nobody  dreams  of  ascribing  to 
them  an  immaterial  soul.     Why  should  we,  there- 
fore, require  it,  because  we  enjoy  an  insignificant 
increase  of  those  faculties  and  energies  ?     True,  this 
Something  superadded  to  man  is  not  as  insignificant 
as  Voltaire,  rhetorically  belittling  it,  would  have  us 
suppose;  on  the  contrary,  it  is  enormous,  but  never- 
theless only  an  increase  of  something — not  some- 
thing eke.     Even  if  we  take  the  case  of  animals  of  a 
very  low  order,  it  would  fill  a  volume,  says  Darwin, 
to  describe  the  habits  and  mental  powers  of  an  ant. 
The  same  is  true  of  bees.     It  is,  in  fact,  curious  that 
the  more  closely  the  life  and  ways  of  any  one  species 


14  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New, 

are  observed,  the  more  the  observer  finds  himself 
impelled  to  speak  of  their  reason.  The  stories  relat- 
ing to  the  memory,  the  judgment,  the  capacity  of 
learning  and  developing,  of  the  dog,  the  horse,  the 
elephant,  are  astounding.  But  even  the  so-called 
wild  animals  show  traces  of  similar  qualities. 
Speaking  of  birds  of  prey,  Brehm  remarks,  "  They 
act  after  mature  deliberation ;  they  form  plans, 
and  execute  them."  And  of  the  thrushes  he  says, 
"  They  are  quick  in  apprehension,  correct  in  judg- 
ment, and  know  especially  how  to  make  use  of  all 
ways  and  means  to  ensure  their  safety.  Those  that 
have  grown  up  in  the  silent  and  solitary  forests  of 
the  North  are  easily  decoyed ;  experience,  however, 
very  soon  sharpens  their  sagacity,  and  those  that 
have  once  been  taken  in  are  not  again  easily  deluded 
in  the  same  manner.  Even  as  regards  men,  whom 
however,  they  never  quite  trust,  they  yet  know  how 
to  distino'uish  between  the  dano^erous  and  the  in- 
offensive :  they  suffer  the  shepherd  to  approach 
them  more  nearly  than  the  hunter."  Coinciding 
with  this  is  Darwin's  account  of  the  almost  incre- 
dible degree  of  shrewdness,  caution,  and  cunning, 
which  has  been  developed  in  the  fur-bearing  animals 
of  North  America,  in  consequence  of  the  unremitting 
waylaying  they  suffer  at  the  hands  of  man. 


What  is  Our  Conception  of  the  Universe  ?     1 5 

Added  to  their  reasoning  faculties,  Darwin  en- 
deavours to  trace,  especially  in  the  higher  animals, 
the  commencement  of  the  moral  sentiment,  which 
he  connects  with  their  social  instincts.  A  certain 
sense  of  honour,  of  conscience,  can  scarcely  be  denied 
to  the  nobler  and  better-kept  kinds  of  horses  and 
dogs.  And  if  the  dog's  conscience  is,  not  quite 
unjustly,  traced  back  to  the  stick,  we  may  ask,  in 
return,  whether  the  same  holds  not  good  of  the 
ruder  sorts  of  man  also  ?  But  the  instincts,  more 
especially,  which  bear  on  the  rearing  of  young,  the 
care,  the  pains,  the  self-sacrifice  there  lavished,  must 
be  regarded  as  a  deposit  of  the  higher  moral  faculties 
in  the  animal  kingdom.  To  use  an  expression  of 
Goethe's  to  Eckermann,  "  In  the  animal  that  is 
intimated  in  the  bud  which  afterwards  comes  to  full 
flower  in  man.'* 

61 

Voltaire,  with  his  usual  good  sense  in  such 
things,  remarks  that  the  power  of  Thought  fills  us 
with  astonishment,  yet  that  that  of  feeling  is  quite 
as  marvellous :  a  divine  force  reveals  itself  in  the 
sensations  of  the  lowest  animal  as  much  as  in  the 
brain  of  a  Newton.  In  fact,  he  who  should  explain 
the  zoophyte's  instinctive   grasping   after   its  dis- 


1 6  TJie  Old  Faith  and  the  New, 

covered  prey,  the  convulsive  slirinking  of  the  larva 
of  an  insect  upon  being  pricked,  would  not  there- 
fore, it  is  true,  have  explained  the  process  of 
thought  in  man,  but  he  would,  nevertheless,  be  on 
the  rioht  path  to  it,  without  the  need  of  calling  a 
new  principle  to  his  aid.  On  the  contrary,  the 
distinct  division  and  manifold  development  which 
have  been  accorded  to  the  material  apparatus  of 
thought  and  feehng  in  the  brain  and  nervous 
system  of  man  and  the  higher  animals,  must  render 
the  explanation  of  them  easier  than,  for  example, 
are  those  of  the  social  and  artistic  instincts  of  the 
bee  or  the  ant,  considering  their  far  more  imperfect 
structure. 

"  If  the  soul  unassisted  by  the  brain  is  helpless," 
says  Virchow,  "  if  all  her  energies  are  dependent  on 
the  changes  of  its  parts,  it  can  hardly  be  asserted 
that  consciousness  or  anything  else  is  an  original 
attribute  of  the  independent  soul;"  but  we  might 
as  well  "  declare  the  brain  to  be  sentient  and  think- 

ino'   even   could  it  be  demonstrated  that  its  con- 
s' 

sciousness  is  first  aroused  by  something  difierent 
from  itself."  From  this  dependence  of  mental 
activity  on  tlje  brain, — with  whose  growth  and 
development  it  unfoLls  itself,  decreasing  again  as 
the  latter  dwindles  away  in  old  age,  and  likewise 


What  is  Our  Conception  of  the  Universe  ?      t  '/ 

participating  in  any  affection  caused  by  its  disease 
or  injury, — Carl  Vogt  especially  (with  whom,  al- 
though usually  at  issue,  I  thoroughly  agree  here) 
has  undauntedly  concluded  that  the  admission  of 
a  special  spiritual  substance  "  is  a  pure  hypothesis ; 
that  not  a  single  fact  points  to  the  existence  of  such 
a  substance;  and  that,  moreover,  the  introduction 
of  this  hypothesis  is  utterly  useless,  as  it  explains 
nothing,  brings  nothing  more  forcibly  before  us." 

On  the  contrary,  many  of  the  difhculties  environ- 
ing the  problem  of  thought  and  feeling  in  man 
entirely  proceed  from  this  assumption  of  a  psychical 
essence,  distinct  from  the  corporeal  organs.  How 
from  an  extended,  non-thinking  thing,  such  as  the 
human  body,  impressions  can  be  conveyed  to  anon- 
extended,  thinking  thing,  such  as  the  soul  is  alleged 
to  be;  how  impulses  are  re-transmitted  from  the 
second  to  the  first ;  in  short,  how  any  communion 
is  possible  between  them, — this  no  philosophy  has 
yet  explained,  and  none  ever  will.  The  matter 
must,  in  any  case,  be  much  more  intelligible,  if  we 
have  only  to  do  with  one  and  the  same  being,  of 
which  in  one  respect  extension  is  predicable,  in 
another,  thought.  Of  course  we  shall  be  told, 
such  a  being  is  not  possible.  We  reply,  It  exists  : 
we  ourselves  are  all  such  beings. 

VOL.  II.  C. 


1 8  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New, 

It  is  astonishiug  how  stubbornly  men,  even 
scientific  men,  will  sit  down  for  centuries  in  the 
face  of  such  a  problem,  and  for  that  very  reason 
find  it  insoluble.  It  certainly  is  not  so  very  long 
since  the  law  of  the  Persistence  of  Force  has  been 
discovered,  and  it  will  still  cost  much  labour  to 
clearly  explain,  and  determine  it  more  precisely  in 
its  nearest  relations,  as  concerns  the  transformation 
of  heat  into  motion,  and  vice,  versa.  But  the  time 
cannot  be  very  distant  now  when  the  law  will  be 
applied  to  the  problem  of  thought  and  sensation. 
If,  under  certain  conditions,  motion  is  transformed 
into  heat,  why  may  it  not,  under  other  conditions,  be 
transformed  into  sensation  ?  The  conditions,  the 
requisite  apparatus,  exist  in  the  brain  and  nervous 
system  of  the  higher  animals,  and  in  those  organs 
which  represent  these  among  the  lower  orders. 
On  the  one  side  an  internal  motion  is  occasioned 
by  contact  with  a  nerve ;  on  the  other  an  idea  is 
roused  by  a  sensation  or  a  perception ;  and  vice 
versa,  on  their  way  from  within  outwards,  sensation 
and  thought  are  transformed  into  bodily  motion. 
"  If,"  Helmholtz  says,  "  in  the  production  of  heat  by 
friction  and  percussion,  the  motion  of  the  whole 
mass  is  transformed  into  motion  of  its  minutest 
particles ;  and  on  the  other  hand,  in  the  j^roduction 


What  is  Our  Conception  oftJie  Universe  ?      i  g 

of  motive  force  by  heat,  the  motion  of  the  minutest 
particles  is  again  transformed  into  one  of  the  whole 
mass," — then  I  ask:  Is  this  something  essentially  dif- 
ferent ?  Is  the  above  not  its  unavoidable  corollary  ? 
I  shall  be  told  that  I  am  here  speaking  of  things 
I  understand  nothing  about.  Very  well ;  but 
others  will  come  who  will  understand  them,  and 
who  will  also  have  understood  me. 

62. 
If  this  be  considered  pure  unmitigated  material- 
ism, I  will  not  dispute  it.  In  fact,  I  have  always 
tacitly  regarded  the  contrast  so  loudly  proclaimed 
between  materialism  and  idealism  (or  by  whatever 
term  one  may  designate  the  view  opposed  to  the 
former),  as  a  mere  quarrel  about  words.  They  have 
a  common  foe  in  the  dualism  which  pervaded  the 
conception  of  the  world  throughout  the  Christian 
era,  dividing  man  into  body  and  soul,  his  existence 
into  time  and  eternity,  and  opposing  an  eternal 
Creator  to  a  created  and  perishable  universe. 
Materialism,  as  well  as  idealism,  may,  in  comparison 
with  this  dualistic  conception,  be  regarded  as 
Monism ;  i.e.,  they  endeavour  to  derive  the  totality 
of  phenomena  from  a  single  principle — to  construct 
the  universe  and  life  from  the  same  block.     In  this 


20  The  Old  Faith  and  the  N'ew, 

endeavour  one  theory  starts  from  above,  the  other 
from  below ;  the  latter  constructs  the  universe  from 
atoms  and  atomic  forces,  the  former  from  ideas  and 
idealistic  forces.  But  if  they  would  fulfil  their 
tasks,  the  one  must  lead  from  its  heights  down  to 
the  very  lowest  circles  of  Nature,  and  to  this  end 
place  itself  under  the  control  of  careful  observation; 
while  the  other  must  take  into  account  the  higher 
intellectual  and  ethical  problems. 

Moreover,  we  soon  discover  that  each  of  these 
modes  of  conception,  if  rigorously  applied,  leads  to 
the  other.  ''  It  is  just  as  true,"  says  Schopenhauer, 
"that  the  percipient  is  a  product  of  matter  as  that 
matter  is  a  mere  conception  of  the  percipient,  but  the 
proposition  is  equally  one-sided."  "  We  are  justified," 
says  the  author  of  the  ''History  of  Materialism," 
more  explicitly,  "  in  assuming  physical  conditions  for 
everything,  even  for  the  mechanism  of  thought ;  but 
we  are  equally  justified  in  considering  not  only  the 
external  world,  but  the  organs,  also,  with  which  we 
perceive  it,  as  mere  images  of  that  which  actually 
exists."  But  the  fact  always  remains,  that  we  must 
not  ascribe  one  part  of  the  functions  of  our  being 
to  a  physical,  the  other  to  a  spiritual  cause,  but  all 
of  them  to  one  and  the  same,  which  may  be  viewed 
in  either  aspect. 


What  is  Our  Conceptmi  of  the  Universe  ?     2 1 

I  am  therefore  of  opinion  that  both  syst(jms 
should  reserve  their  weapons  for  that  other  veritable 
and  still  formidable  foe,  while  treating  each  other 
with  the  respect,  or  at  least  the  politoness,  of  allies. 
The  overbearino^,  half-lecturing^,  half-incriminatino- 
tone  Avhich  some  philosophers  love  to  assume 
towards  the  materialism  of  the  natural  sciences, 
is  quite  as  blameable,  and  even  unwise,  as  is,  on 
the  other  hand,  the  rude  abuse  of  philosophy  with 
which  materialists  are  so  fond  of  amusing,  if  not  of 
edifying  us.  And  the  misapprehension  is  almost 
more  stubborn  on  the  side  of  the  latter  than  the 
former.  That  knowledge  of  the  natural  sciences  is 
indispensable  to  the  philosopher,  that  familiarity  with 
the  latest  discoveries  in  chemistry,  physiology,  etc.,  is 
absolutely  requisite  to  him,  is  hardly  now  denied  by 
anyone  of  philosophical  pretensions ;  we  far  more  fre- 
quently see  the  representatives  of  the  exact  sciences 
disposed  to  relegate  philosophy  into  the  lumber- 
room,  with  astrology  and  alchemy.  For  a  good 
while  it  certainly  did  act  as  if  it  deserved  it ;  but 
these  gentlemen,  as  naturalists,  ought  sureh^  to  be 
able  to  distinguish  between  moulting  of  the  outer 
covering  and  a  mortal  distemper  of  the  whole  sys- 
tem. That  philosophy  has  for  some  time  past 
been  in  this  state   of   transition,  is   only   too   ev- 


22  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New. 

ideiit ;  but  its  plumage  will  grow  again.  The 
token  of  a  healthy  crisis  is  the  regimen  iii  now 
observes.  It  occupies  itself  chiefly  with  its  own 
history;  and  in  this  department  can  point  to 
productions  which,  for  thoroughness  and  insight, 
far  outstrip  every  work  of  former  times.  This  is 
clearly  the  safest  way  of  arriving  at  the  conclusion 
as  to  what  its  capabilities  are,  what  it  should  do, 
and,  still  better,  what  it  should  leave  alone.  And 
if  anything  has  good  cause  to  wish  it  success  in 
its  endeavours,  it  is  Natural  Science.  For  the 
accurate  formation  of  those  most  delicate  instru- 
ments which  are  hourly  wielded  by  the  naturalist, 
the  ideas  of  force  and  matter,  essence  and  pheno- 
mena, cause  and  effect,  can  only  be  taught  him  by 
philosophy  and  metaphysics,  and  their  accurate 
application  by  philosophy  as  logic ;  the  Ariadne- 
clue,  which  shall  lead  him  through  the  lab3'rinth 
of  the  daily  increasing  mass  of  single  observations, 
he  can  solely  expect  from  the  hand  of  philosophy. 
In  regard,  however,  to  the  ultimate  problems  of 
beginning  and  end,  limitation  or  infinity,  purpose 
or  fortu-itousness  of  the  universe,  philosophy  alone 
can  afford  him  the  one  kind  of  information  which 
is  at  all  possible  in  those  regions. 

But  science  is  bejxinninfy  to  show  siojns  of  a  better 


What  IS  Our  Concept  mi  of  the  Universe  ?     23 

appreciation  of  philosophy,  and  of  repenting  its  former 
coyness.  For  wliat,  at  bottom,  underlies  the  general 
interest  which  the  Darwinian  theory  has  aroused  in 
its  circles,  but  the  philosophical  interests  which,  far 
transcending  the  isolated  facts,  looks  to  the  infinite 
perspective  which  it  has  disclosed  ?  Undoubedly 
our  so-called  philosophy  of  Nature  has  embraced  a 
cloud  instead  of  Juno,  and  begotten  nothing  in 
consequence ;  but  the  Darwinian  theory  is  the  first 
child  of  the  true,  though  as  yet  clandestine,  union 
of  science  and  philosophy. 

63. 

"Darwin*s  theory  shows  how  the  adaptation  of 
structure  in  organisms  may  be  effected,  without  any 
interference  of  intelligence,  by  the  blind  operation 
of  a  natural  law."  If  Helmholtz  in  these  words 
describes  the  English  naturalist  as  he  who  has 
removed  the  idea  of  design  from  our  explanation  of 
Nature,  we,  on  the  other  liand,  have  already  praised 
him  as  having  effaced  miracle  from  our  conception 
of  the  world.  For  design  is  the  magician  of 
Nature ;  he  it  is  who  turns  the  world  topsy-turvy, 
and,  to  quote  Spinoza,  ''makes  the  hindmost  the 
foremost,  makes  the  effect  a  cause,  and  thus  entirely 
destroys    the    conception    of    Nature."      It  is  the 


24  The  Old  Faüh  and  the  New, 

adaptation  in  Nature,  especially  in  the  domain  of 
organic  life,  which  has  always  been  appealed  to 
by  those  who  have  contended  that  the  Cosmos  could 
not  be  understood  by  itself,  but  only  as  the  work  of 
an  intelligent  creator. 

"  If  the  eye,"  says  Trendelenburg,  "  in  the  course 
of  formation  were  turned  towards  the  light,  we 
should  at  first  suspect  that  this  precious  organ  was 
formed  by  contact  with  the  luminous  ray.  We 
should  seek  the  efficient  cause  in  the  force  of  light. 
But  the  eye  develops  in  the  obscurity  of  the  womb, 
in  order  to  correspond,  when  born,  to  the  light. 
The  same  holds  good  of  the  other  senses.  There  is 
a  pre-established  harmony  between  the  light  and 
the  eye,  sound  and  the  ear;  and  this  seems  to  point 
to  a  power  enveloping  the  different  members,  of 
which  the  Alpha  and  Omega  is  the  idea." 

Similar  arguments  are  derived  from  the  instincts 
of  animals.  "  We  observe  in  all  animals "  (these 
words  of  H.  S.  Eeimarus  are  even  now  a  classical 
expression  for  the  teleological  mode  of  conception) 
"  certain  natural  impulses,  instincts,  or  efforts,  which 
enable  them  from  their  birth  to  perform  admirably 
and  with  hereditary  finished  art,  tliat  which  the 
highest  reason  might  have  indicated  as  most  con- 
ducive to  their  well  being.  This  tliey  do  with- 
out  any  thought,  experience,  or  practice  whatever 


What  is  Our  Conception  of  the   Universe  ? 


2C 


on  their  own  part,  or  any  instruction,  exam])le,  or 
pattern.  But  as  little  as  it  is  possible  for  art,  science, 
and  cleverness  to  exist  without  intelligence  and 
deliberate  action,  so  little  can  we  ascribe  all  this  to 
the  irrational  creatures  themselves.  It  is  the  revela- 
tion of  an  infinite  intelligence,  which  is  the  original 
fountain  of  all  possible  invention  and  science,  and 
which  found  the  means  of  implanting  as  an  innate 
capacity  in  the  blind  nature  of  all  these  creatures, 
that  part  of  itself  which  Wxi^^^  needed." 

The  intelligent  artificer  of  organisms,  the  personal 
inspirer  of  instincts,  could  not  well  be  retained  by  that 
modern  thought  which  has  been  developed  by  the 
progress  of  the  Natural  Science.  It  had  been  too 
clearly  apprehended  that  our  consciousness  of  both 
the  outer  and  inner  worlds  is  first  rendered  possible 
on  the  substratum  of  the  senses,  that  our  thought  de- 
pends on  a  physical  apparatus,  especially  on  the  brain 
and  the  nervous  system,  and  is  in  consequence  condi- 
tioned by  a  limit,  but  all  limit  must  be  withheld  from 
the  absolute  being.  This  has  inspired  the  author  of 
"  The  Philosopliy  of  the  Unconscious"  wdth  his 
theory  of  an  unconscious  Absolute,  which,  acting  in 
all  atoms  and  organisms  as  a  universal  soul,  deter- 
mines the  contents  of  creation,  and  the  evolution  of 
the  universe,  by  a  '*  clairvoyant  wisdom  superior  to 


26  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New, 

all  consciousness."  At  the  same  time,  the  unconsc4ou{ 
sets  to  work  in  the  same  manner  as  did  formerl}^ 
the  conscious  and  personal  Absohite :  it  pursues  a 
plan,  and  chooses  the  most  appropriate  means,  only 
nominally  without  consciousness;  the  explanation? 
which  E.  von  Hartmann  gives  of  the  adaptation 
of  Nature,  are  exactly  like  those  of  old  Keimarus ; 
neither  the  effect  nor  the  mode  of  operation  is 
differently  conceived,  but  only  the  operating  sub- 
ject. But  this  is  the  alteration  of  a  word,  not  the 
solution  of  the  problem.  If  formerly  the  contradic- 
tion lay  in  the  subject,  in  the  relation  of  its  incom- 
patible attributes  of  absoluteness  and  personality, 
it  now  lies  in  the  relation  of  the  subject  to  its 
activity ;  performances  and  actions  are  ascribed  to 
an  unconscious  which  can  only  belong  to  a  con- 
scious being. 

64. 

If  an  unconscious  something  is  to  have  accom- 
plished what  appears  to  us  in  Nature  as  an 
adaptation  of  means  to  ends,  then  I  must  be  able 
to  conceive  of  its  action  being  such  as  is  adapted  to 
tlie  unconscious;  it  must,  to  speak  with  Helmholtz, 
have  acted  as  a  blind  force  of  Nature,  and  yet  have 
accomplished   something   which   corresponds  to   a 


What  is  Our  Conception  0/ the  Universe?     27 

design.  We  have  been  led  to  tlie  summit  of  this 
standpoint  by  the  recent  investigation  of  Nature  in 
Darwin. 

If  Reimarus,  speaking  of  instincts,  says,  "they 
are  skill>implanted  by  God  in  the  souls  of  animals," 
while  Darwin,  on  the  other  hand,  regards  them 
simply  as  "inherited  habits,"  the  chasm  is  fully 
revealed  which  separates  the  new  Cosmic  concep- 
tion from  the  old,  and  the  progress  is  shown  which, 
during  the  last  century,  has  been  made  in  the 
comprehension  of  Nature.  Trendelenburg  insists 
on  the  fact  that  the  eye  is  not  formed  in  light-^in 
consequence,  not  by  light,  yet,  nevertheless,  in  the 
obscurity  of  the  womb  for  light ;  and  he  concludes 
from  this  adaptation,  not  at  the  same  time  compre- 
hending a  causative  one,  that  there  must  be  an 
absolute  Intelligence  which  makes  and  carries  out 
an  aim.  But  the  eye  of  the  embr^^o  is  only  formed 
in  the  womb  of  a  being  whose  eye  has  been,  during 
the  whole  course  of  its  existence,  subject  to  the 
influence  of  light,  and  which  transmits  the  modifi- 
cations effected  in  the  eye  by  light  to  its  offspring. 
It  is  not,  of  course,  the  seeing  human  individual 
which  forms  its  own  or  its  offspring's  eye  by 
acting  in  concert  with  light ;  but  it  does  not  follow 
tiiat   it   must   therefore    have   been   made   by   an 


28  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New, 

artificer  external  to  itself:  the  individual  finds  itself 
put  in  possession  of  an  instrument  wliicli  it 3 
predecessors,  since  immemorial  times,  have  gi-adually 
brought  to  an  ever  higher  grade  of  perfection 
Helm  hoi tz  remarks  especially  of  the  ej^e, — what, 
however,  applies  equally  to  every  organ, — that  here 
"  that  which  can  be  effected  by  the  labour  of  count- 
less successions  of  generations,  under  the  influence 
of  the  Darwinian  law  of  development,  tallies  with 
that  which  it  would  be  possible  for  the  forethought 
of  the  highest  wisdom  to  plan."  Among  these 
ancestors  and  generations  we  are  naturally  not 
merely  to  understand  human  ones,  which  have  all 
inherited  the  eye  in  its  already  finished  condition. 
Even  beyond  the  renowned  amphioxus,  we  must 
ascend  to  the  very  beginnings  of  life,  where  an 
obscure  general  diffusion  of  sensation  is  gradually 
differentiated  into  the  various  senses,  whose  organs 
have  slowly  perfected  themselves  under  the 
pressure  of  necessity ;  in  all  of  which  mere  indivi- 
duals take  the  smallest  share,  although  the  organs 
are  strengthened  by  habit :  but  inasmuch  as  those 
individuals  which,  in  consequence  of  casual  variation, 
possess  the  life-promoting  organ  in  a  more  perfect 
condition,  are  better  adapted  to  succeed  and  propa- 
gate their  kind  than  the  others,  the  organ  is  perfected 


W/iat  is  Our  Concept  mi  of  the  Universe  ?     2g 

in  the  course  of  generations.  The  same  is  the  case 
with  animal  instincts.  It  is  not  our  present  bee 
which  plans  its  skilful  constructions,  neither  is 
it  instructed  in  them  by  a  deity ;  but  in  the  lapse 
of  thousands  of  years,  since  the  lowest  insects  have 
gradually  developed  into  the  various  genera  of  the 
Hymenoptera,  the  increasing  needs  induced  by 
the  struggle  for  existence  have  gradually  fashioned 
those  arts  which  are  now  transmitted  without  effort 
as  heirlooms  to  the  present  generations. 

Let  us  call  to  mind  the  Kantian  ''Give  me 
matter ;  I  will  show  you  hoAV  a  world  shall  be  evolved 
thence ; "  an  undertaking  which,  although  considered 
possible  to  carry  out  in  regard  to  the  world  of 
inorganic  matter,  he  said  must  yet  necessaril}^  be 
wrecked  upon  a  caterpillar.  Modern  science, 
although  it  has  not  as  yet  achieved  this,  has  yet 
found  the  right  direction  in  which  it  will  one  day 
be  able  to  achieve,  not  merely  the  caterpillar,  but 
even  man. 

Only  as  long  as  a  personal  deity  was  assumed, 
and  the  creation  of  the  world  regarded  as  a  free  act 
of  his  will,  could  there,  properly  speaking,  be  any 
question  either  of  isolated  aims  of  Nature,  or  gene- 


30  The  Old  Faith  and  the  Ahw, 

rally,  of  the  aim  of  the  world  or  creation.  Starting 
from  this  standpoint,  ancient  theologians  and  philo- 
sophers sometimes  defined  the  end  of  the  creation  as 
the  glory  of  God,  sometimes  as  the  happiness  of  the 
creature,  while,  at  the  same  time,  they  sternly 
insisted  on  the  fact  that  God  had  had  no  need  of 
the  world,  that  it  added  nothing  to  his  perfection 
and  beatitude. 

It  is  singular  how  it  has  fared  with  this  asser- 
tion during  the  last  stage  of  modern  philosophy. 
Schelling  says,  that  if  God  had  already  been  in  pos- 
session of  the  highest  perfection  without  the  creation 
of  the  world,  he  would  have  had  no  motive  for  the 
production  of  so  many  things,  by  which,  if  incapable 
of  attaining  to  a  higher  degree  of  perfection,  he 
could  only  have  diminished  the  perfection  he  already 
possessed  ;  and  tliat  such  a  strangely  tangled  though 
orderly  whole  as  the  world,  could  not  be  explained 
as  having  been  produced  by  a  clear  and  perspicuous 
intelligence,  such  as  Theism  commonly  attributed 
to  the  divine  Being  before  the  creation  of  the  uni- 
verse. According  to  Hegel  also,  the  Supreme  Spirit 
could  only  have  had  the  patience  to  undertake  the 
enormous  labour  of  the  world's  history,  from  in- 
ability of  enjoying  any  intellectual  activity  in  any 
other  manner. 


What  is  Our  Concepimi  of  the  Universe  ?    3 1 

Schopenhauer  and  his  adherents  express  them- 
selves much  more  coarsely  concerning  this  question. 
"It  must  bean  ill-advised  God/'  sa^^s  the  former, 
in  controverting  Pantheism,  "  who  should  be  able  to 
devise  no  better  pastime  than  to  transform  himself 
into  so  hungry  a  world  as  ours,  to  appear  in  the 
form  of  innumerable  millions  of  living,  but  at  the 
same  time  terrified  and  tormented  beings,  who  can 
only  exist  for  a  space  by  mutually  devouring  each 
other,  and  enduring  measureless  and  objectless  ills 
of  anguish,  misery,  and  death."  And  thus  the  author 
of  "The  Philosophy  of  the  Unconscious,"  who,  if  pos- 
sible, outdoes  the  master,  says  that  ''if  God,  previous 
to  the  creation,  had  been  aware  what  ho  was  doino- 
creation  would  have  been  an  inexpiable  crime ;  its 
existence  is  only  pardonable  as  the  result  of  blind 
will ;  the  entire  Cosmic  process  would  be  an  equally 
niifathomablu  folly,  if  its  only  possible  aim— self  devel- 
opment, had  existed  Avithout  it."  Maxims,  of  which 
the  first  reminds  one  of  Schelling's  doctrine  of  the 
creation  as  being  the  work  of  an  undeveloped  reason 
in  God,  the  second,  of  Hegel's  remark  on  the  sig- 
nificance of  universal  history. 

If  we  enquire  what  it  is  that  renders  this  world 
unworthy  of  a  divine  creator,  Schopenhauer  an- 
swers: Pain  and  death  cannot  exist  in  a  divinely 


3  2  TJie  Old  Faith  and  the  Ä^cw. 

ordered  universe.  It  is  especially  the  struggle  for 
existence,  with  its  sufferings  and  hoirors  without 
end,  which  for  him  bars  the  way  to  a  satisfactory 
conception  of  the  universe.  But  it  is  this  very 
straggle  for  existence  which  we  have  already  recog- 
nized as  being  the  leaven  which  alone  introduces 
motion  and  progress  into  the  world ;  and  strangely 
enough,  this  perception  is  not  wanting  in  Schopen- 
hauer. ''To  take  trouble  upon  himself,"  he  sa^^s 
somewhere,  "  and  struggle  against  that  which 
resists  him,  is  as  natural  to  man  as  burrowing  is 
to  the  mole.  The  calm  which  the  satisfaction  of 
an  abiding  enjoyment  would  bring  with  it,  would 
be  unbearable  to  him.  The  fullest  enjoyment  of 
his  existence  consists  in  the  conquest  of  obstacles, 
whether  of  a  material  or  a  mental  nature ;  to  combat 
them  and  to  overcome  them  are  the  conditions  of 
felicit}^  If  all  such  opportunity  be  wanting  to 
him,  he  creates  it  as  best  he  may,  if  only  to  put  an 
end  to  the  intolerable  state  of  rest."  Schopenhauer, 
however,  would  seek  to  nullify  this  concession  by 
reckoning  this  peculiarity  of  human  nature  he  has 
described  as  itself  a  proof  of  the  perversity  of 
the  whole  Cosmic  system.  Nevertheless,  it  would 
not  be  difficult  to  refute  his  pessimism  by  its  help. 
"Every  movement,"  says  Lessing,  "develops   and 


What  is  Oiir  Conception  of  the   Universe  ?     33 


destroys,  brings  life  and  death  ;  brings  death  to  one 
creature  in  bringing  life  to  another.  Would  we 
rather   have  no  death   and   no    motion  %    or  rather 


And  that  other  saying  of  Lessing — "  If  God,  hold- 
ing truth  in  his  right  hand,  and  in  his  left  only  the 
ever  living  desire  for  truth,  although  on  condition  of 
perpetual  error,  should  leave  me  the  choice  of  the 
two,  I  would  humbly  point  to  the  left  hand,  and  say 
'  Father,  give !  Pure  Truth  is  for  thee  alone.'  "  This 
saying  of  Lessing  has  always  been  accounted  one  of 
the  most  magnificent  which  he  has  left  us.  It  com- 
pletely expresses  his  restless  love  of  enquiry 
and  activity.  The  saying  has  always  made  quite  a 
special  impression  upon  me,  because  behind  its  sub- 
jective meaning  I  still  seemed  to  hear  the  faint  ring 
of  an  objective  one  of  infinite  import.  For  does  it 
not  contain  the  best  possible  answer  to  the  rude 
speech  of  Schopenhauer,  respecting  the  ill-advised 
god  wdio  had  nothing  better  to  do  than  to  transform 
himself  into  this  miserable  w^orld  ?  if ,  for  example, 
the  Creator  himself  had  shared  Lessing's  conviction 
of  the  superiority  of  struggle  to  tranquil  possession  % 

From  our  present  standpoint,  wliich  no  longer  rec- 
ognizes a  self-conscious  creator  of  the  universe, 
ihese  suppositions  may  appear  to  us  as  the  dalliance 


34 


The  Old  Faith  and  the  New. 


of  fancy ;  but  we  may  easily  retain  the  significance 
of  tliem  without  applying  them  to  a  personal  God. 
If  w.e  can  no  longer  transfer  to  G-od  the  choice  be- 
tween an  existence  in  the  first  place  devoid  of  pain 
and  death,  but  likewise  of  motion  and  life,  or  one  in 
the  second  place  wherein  life  and  motion  are  bought 
by  pain  and  death,  we  have,  nevertheless,  the  choice 
whether  we  will  try  to  understand  the  second,  or 
whether,  in  fruitless  negation  of  what  actually  ex- 
ists, we  insist  on  preferring  the  first. 


m. 

In  so  far,  therefore,  as  we  still  speak  of  a  purpose 
in  the  universe,  we  are  clearly  conscious  that  we  are 
expressing  ourselves  subjectively,  and  that  we  only 
express  by  it  what  we  seem  to  recognize  as  the 
general  result  of  the  co-operation  of  the  active 
forces  in  the  world. 

We  imported  from  our  preceding  section  the 
conception  of  the  Cosmos,  instead  of  that  of  a  per- 
sonal God,  as  tlie  finality  to  which  we  are  led  by 
perception  and  thought,  or  as  the  ultimate  fact 
beyond  which  w^e  could  not  proceed.  In  the  course 
of  furtlier  investigation,  this  assumed  the  more  defi- 
nite shape  of  matter  infinitely  agitated,  which,  by 


JV/iaf  is  Our  Conception  of  the   Universe?     35 

diiFerentiation  and  integration,  developed  itself  to 
ever  higlier  forms  and  fnnctions,  and  described  an 
everlasting  circle  bj  evolution,  dissolution  and  then 
fresh  evolution.  The  general  deduction  from  the  ex- 
istence of  the  universe  appears  to  ns  to  be,  as  a  whole, 
the  most  varied  motion,  or  the  greatest  abundance 
of  life ;  this  motion  or  life  specialized  as  one  de- 
veloping itself  morally  as  well  as  physically,  strug- 
gling outwards  and  upwards,  and  even  in  the  decline 
of  the  individual  only  preparing  a  new  uprising.  * 

The  old  religious  conception  of  the  universe 
regarded  the  attainment  of  its  aim  as  placed  at  the 
end  of  the  world.  Tliere  as  many  human  souls 
as  possible,  or  as  was  predestined,  are  saved;  the 
others,  including  the  devils,  are  delivered  unto 
merited  punishment ;  the  spiritual  beings  are  com- 
pleted and  continue,  while  Nature,  which  only  served 
as  the  basis  for  their  development,  may  perish. 
From  our  standpoint  also,  the  object  of  the  terrene 
development  seems  much  nearer  its  attainment 
now,  when  the  earth  is  filled  by  men  and  their 
works,  and  partly  inhabited  by  nations  of  a  high 
mental  and  moral  civilization,  than  many  hundreds 
of  thousands  of  years  ago,  when  she  was  still  exclu- 
sively occupied  by  mollusca  or  Crustacea,  to  which 
fish  were  added  later,  then  the  mighty  Saurians, 


36  The  Old  Fa.tJi  and  the  Neiv, 

with  their  allied  species,  and  finally,  the  primseval 
mammals,  but  still  without  man. 

Nevertheless,  a  time  must  coire  when  the  earth 
will  be  no  longer  inhabited, — nay,  when  she  will  have 
ceased  to  exist  as  a  planet.  Then  all  that  which, 
in  the  course  of  her  development,  was  produced 
and  in  a  manner  accomplished  by  her — all  living 
and  rational  beings,  and  all  their  productions,  all  poli- 
tical organizations,  all  works  of  art  and  science — 
will  not  only  have  necessarily  vanished  from  exist- 
ence, without  a  trace,  but  even  the  memory  of  them 
will  survive  in  no  mind,  as  the  history  of  the  earth 
must  naturally  perish  with  her.  Either  the  earth  has 
missed  her  aim  here — no  result  has  been  produced 
by  her  protracted  existence ,  or  this  aim  did  not 
consist  in  something  wdiich  was  intended  to  endure, 
but  has  been  attained  at  every  moment  of  her 
development.  The  sum  of  the  terrestrial  events, 
however,  which  remained  constant  in  all  stages 
of  the  earth's  development  was  only  in  part  the 
richest  expansion  and  motion  of  life  in  general,  in 
part  specially  the  ascending  direction  of  this  motion, 
which  in  its  ascension  oversoared  the  decline  of  the 
individual. 

The  fact  is,   that   ascent  and   decline    are   only 
relative   conceptions.      The   life   of  the  earth,   for 


What  is  Our  Conception  of  the  Universe  ?     37 

example,  is  at  the  present  period  quite  as  certainly 
waning  in  one  respect  as  it  is  waxing  in  another. 
The  brooding  warmth,  the  luxurious  fruitfulness, 
the  vast  creative  power,  have  decreased ;  while  the 
delicacy,  the  elaboration,  the  spiritualization  have 
increased.  It  is  probable  that  a  time  will  come  in 
tliG  distant  future,  when  the  earth  will  grow  yet 
colder,  dryer,  and  more  sterile  than  she  is  at 
present;  we  may  feel  inclined  to  conceive  of  the 
men  of  that  period  as  debased,  decrepid,  Samoyed- 
like;  but  it  is  quite  as  conceivable,  at  least,  that 
the  more  unfavourable  conditions  of  existence  will 
open  out  new  mental  resources,  sharpen  their  in- 
ventive faculties,  and  strengthen  their  mastery  of 
themselves  and  of  Nature. 

For  if  we  must  hold  fast  by  the  idea  that  each 
individual  part  of  the  universe,  such  as  the  life 
of  our  earth,  attains,  indeed,  its  end  in  ever  higher 
manifestations,  ^-et  is  at  every  moment  complete  in 
itself;  the  latter  alone  holds  good  of  the  universe 
as  the  infinite  Whole.     The  All  is  in  no  succeedino- 

o 

moment  more  perfect  than  in  the  preceding  one, 
nor  vice  versa :  there  exists  in  it,  in  fact,  no  such 
distinction  of  sooner  or  later,  because  all  gradations 
and  stages  of  contraction  and  expansion,  ascent 
and  decline,  becoming  and  perishing,  exist  side  by 


38  TJie  Old  Faiih  and  ike  Äkzv. 

side  in  it,  mutually  supplementing  each  other  to 
infinity. 

Nevertheless  the  general  object  or  result  of  the 
world  is  specially  conditioned  for  every  part,  every 
class  of  beings.  Although  the  variety  of  life,  the 
struggle  of  forces,  the  progressive  tendency,  will  be 
the  same  on  one  planet  as  on  another,  they  wdll, 
nevertheless,  in  each  be  subjected  to  different  rules 
of  action,  different  forms  of  manifestation.  And 
in  like  manner,  the  result  will  assume  different 
proportions  among  the  different  organisms  on  the 
earth.  The  development  of  the  dog  or  cat  genus 
Avill  produce,  and  humanl}'  speaking,  be  intended  to 
j)roduce,  a  different  result  from  that  of  the  develop- 
ment of  mankind. 

What  the  result  of  the  latter  ought  to  be,  and  is, 
we  hope  will  become  plain  to  us,  if  finally  we  still 
endeavour  to  answer  the  last  of  the  questions  we 
have  proposed,  namely,  the  question  : 


39 


IV. 

WHAT  IS  OUR  RULE   OF  LIFE  ? 

67. 
rpHE  path  by  which  we  have  reached  man,  the 
process  of  development  whence  we  have  seen 
him  evolved,  has,  as  regards  the  conception  of  his 
destiny  and  the  tasks  of  his  terrestrial  existence, 
naturally  given  us  a  standpoint  different  from  that  of 
Christian  theology.  For  as  man  did  not  come  forth 
from  the  hand  of  God,  but  arose  from  depths  of 
Nature,  his  first  estate  was  not  paradisaical,  but 
almost  brutal.  Neither,  of  course,  did  he  in  our  eyes 
fall  with  the  first  step,  and  thus  forfeit  Paradise. 
He  did  not  begin  his  career  on  a  great  elevation,  to 
sink  very  low  immediately  afterwards ;  on  the  con- 
trary, he  began  very  low,  to  rise,  although  very 
slowly,  yet  gradually  to  ever  greater  heights.  By 
this  means  alone  he  is  included  in  the  universal 
law  c;f  development,  from  which  the  Christian  con- 
ception withdraws  him  at  the  very  first. 

We  know  at  present  that  the  beginnings  of  man 


40  The  Old  Faith  and  the  N'cw, 

were  so  low  that,  even  after  liis  ejection  from  Para- 
dise, he  is  still  placed  too  high  by  the  biblical 
narrative.  He  is  described  as  having  cultivated 
his  field;  but  primseval  man,  an  offshoot  of  the 
primaeval  ape,  was  yet  far  from  having  attained 
this  stage.  A  truer  discernment  may  be  found  in 
the  story  of  the  coats  of  skins ;  but  alas,  these  were 
not  made  for  him  by  a  god :  he  himself  was  forced 
to  combat  and  destroy  the  monsters  in  order  to 
flay  them.  He  appears,  in  the  fii'st  stage  of  his 
development,  as  a  famished  huntsman,  a  sullen 
inmate  of  caves,— nay,  as  a  cannibal  and  devourer 
of  his  fellows.  Of  vegetable  food  he  partook,  along 
with  the  flesh  and  marrow  of  the  bear  or  rhinoceros, 
of  such  fruits  as  the  tree  or  shrub  off'ered  sponta- 
neously, or  of  such  edible  roots  as  he  found  in  the 
earth.  How  many  millenniums  may  have  elapsed 
ere  he  learnt  to  domesticate  the  goat,  sheep,  and  ox, 
to  grow  corn  on  a  spot  of  ground,  to  kindle  a  fire, 
and  roast  his  meat  by  it,  to  triturate  grain,  and 
make  his  cake  more  palatable  by  the  aid  of  fire ! 

But  however  miserable  we  may  be  compelled  to 
conceive  the  condition  of  primaeval  man,  one  quality, 
at  least,  we  may  assume  him  to  have  possessed, 
which  was  likely  to  help  him  forward  on  his  way : 
sociability.     Besides    other   higher   animals,    those 


W/iaf  is  Our  Rule  of  Life  f  41 

are  especially  social  in  the  state  of  Nature  whose 
acquaintance  we  have  already  made  as  being  man's 
nearest  relatives.  ISTow,  it  is  trne,  animals  are  not 
further  developed  by  sociability  ;  it  aids  them  in 
discovering  food  and  protecting  themselves  against 
enemies,  bnt  in  other  respects  they  remain  as  they 
"were.  That  group  of  animals,  however,  which  was 
destined  to  develop  into  man,  possessed,  besides  its 
sociability,  a  pliability  both  of  the  external  limbs 
and  more  especially,  of  the  organs  of  speech  and  of 
the  brain.  In  conjunction  with  these  the  social 
qualities  could  achieve  specially  high  results. 

As  in  the  combinations  of  matter  in  the  domain 
of  inorganic  ]^ature  we  distinguish  between  forces 
of  attraction  and  repulsion,  centripetal  and  centrifu- 
gal impulses,  thus  we  remark  the  same  double  action 
in  the  social  aggreg'^tion  of  living  beings.  The 
repulsive  force  consists  in  the  egotism  of  those 
to  be  united  :  one  pulls  one  way,  the  other  another — 
some  two  or  more  fighting  for  the  same  object,  as 
for  example  a  piece  of  meat ;  to  which  is  superadded 
what  always  was  a  chief  cause  of  war,  not  only,  as 
the  poet  deems,  before  Helen  of  Troy,  but  even  be- 
fore Eve,  among  the  brute  creation  of  primseval 
times — contention  concerning  females.  The  attract- 
ive, or  centripetal  force,  on  the  other  hand,  manifests 


42  The  Old  Faith  and  the  Nezu. 

itself  from  within  outwards,  as  the  social  impulse ; 
and  man  is  also  impelled  in  the  same  direction  by 
the  pressure  which  is  exercised  from  without  by  fam- 
ine and  the  attack  of  the  inimical  forces  of  ele- 
mental as  well  as  of  organic  IS'ature.  The  latter 
motive  was  naturally  all  the  more  potent  with  man, 
the  more  feeble  his  phj^sical  organization,  especially 
as  compared  with  the  terrible  beasts  of  prey,  and  the 
less  he  could  hope  to  resist  them  except  by  united 
force. 

And  as  everywhere  else,  so  here,  we  see  order 
arise  from  the  collision  of  forces.  Already  among 
animals — and  the  higher  we  ascend  the  more  we 
shall  find  it — no  one  individual  is  quite  like  an- 
other, either  in  the  perfection  of  its  parts  or  the 
efficacy  of  its  performances.  This,  as  well  as  the 
difference  of  age,  is  the  reason  why  there  is  always 
one  animal  of  superior  strength  and  sagacity  at  the 
head  of  the  herd.  Now,  however  akin  to  the 
bestial  we  may  consider  the  first  human  horde  to 
have  been,  they  must,  nevertheless,  soon  have  dis- 
covered one  or  another  to  be  bolder  in  repelling 
the  enemy  from  without,  or  to  be  more  pea-ceably 
inclined  towards  the  members  of  the  horde  itself 
at  home.  But  in  these  half  bestial  beginnings,  we 
already  see  the   dawn  of  two   qualities,  which   as 


What  is  Our  Rule  of  Life?  43 

tliey  develop,  will  appear  as  two  of  the  cardinal 
virtues  of  humanity :  courage  and  justice.  And 
where  these  have  once  taken  root,  the  other  two, 
perseverance  and  prudence,  will  infallibly  soon 
branch  out  of  them.  At  the  same  time  we  per- 
ceive that  moral  qualities  can  only  be  developed  in 
society. 

Not  all  the  members  of  the  community  possess 
these  virtues;  but  in  order  that  the  community 
may  prosper  they  ought  to  possess  them,  or  at  least, 
not  the  opposite  faults.  Where  the  latter  pre- 
dominate and  increase,  especially  in  the  mutual 
relations  of  the  members  of  the  community,  there 
society  is  threatened  with  decline  and  dissolution. 
Here  we  may  catch  glimpses  of  the  history  of 
savage  and  protracted  struggles,  during  which 
much  violence  and  suffering  was  inflicted  and  borne 
by  the  various  human  hordes,  and  much  knowledge 
stored  up  likewise.  Experience  taught  them,  in 
every  shape  and  by  countless  repetitions,  what 
might  be  expected  of  a  human  community  in  which 
there  was  no  security  for  life,  acquired  booty,  or 
legitimate  property, — and  in  the  relation  of  the 
sexes,  no  limit  imposed  on  rude  desire.  From  the 
dear  and  blood-purchased  experience  of  what  is 
noxious    and   what   useful,   there   arise    gradually 


44  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New. 

among  the  various  races  of  mankind,  first  customs, 
then  laws,  at  last  a  code  of  duties. 


We  possess  various  compilations  of  such  primal 
laws  of  nations,  belonging  to  the  Aryan  as  well  as  to 
the  Semitic  races ;  the  one  which  is  most  familiar 
to  us  is  the  Mosaic  Decalogue,  which,  although  not 
from  the  oldest  period,  yet  dates  from  a  very  ancient 
one.  It  consists  chiefly,  apart  from  the  precepts 
relating  to  the  Hebrew  religion,  of  maxims  affecting 
human  rights,  forbidding  murder,  theft,  and  adultery. 
Certain  actions  are  here  forbidden  which,  althouo-h 
society  cannot  prevent  by  the  penalties  it  attaches 
to  them,  it  can  yet  render  of  less  frequent  occurrence. 
The  precept  to  honour  father  and  mother,  also  one  of 
the  laws,  reaches  higher  already;  it  could  not, like  the 
others,  be  enforced  by  the  menace  of  punishment,  and 
the  lawgiver  therefore  attempts  this  by  the  promise 
of  a  divine  recompense.  But  lying  quite  beyond  the 
reach  of  mere  law,  touching  on  the  inner  spirit,  are 
the  two  remarkable  appended  commandments,  which 
forbid  man  to  covet  the  wife  or  goods  of  his  neigh- 
bour. Here  the  experience  manifests  itself  already, 
that  the  surest  means  of  preventing  certain  external 
actions  is  to  stop  up  tlieir  sources  in  the  mind  of  man. 


What  is  Our  Rule  of  Life  ?  45 

To  the  two  questions :  How  did  men  come  by  laws 
of  this  kind  ?  and  Whence  do  they  derive  their 
validity  ?  legend  everywhere  returns  the  same 
answer — they  were  given  by  God,  and  are  therefore 
binding  on  men.  The  Bible  gives  a  minute 
description  of  the  scene  on  Mount  Sinai,  where 
Jehovah,  amidst  thunderings  and  lightnings,  handed 
the  tables  of  the  law  to  the  leader  of  the  Israelitish 
people.  At  a  later  period  the  prophets  also,  in 
uttering  their  warnings,  appealed  to  an  immediate 
divine  command;  and  finally  Jesus,  according  to 
the  Gospels,  enforces  his  doctrine  by  his  Messianic 
dignity,  and  especially  his  intimate  relations  with 
his  heavenly  Father.  From  our  point  of  view, 
these  mythical  supports  have  decayed,  and  these 
precepts  can  only  rely  on  their  own  intrinsic 
authority. 

We  acknowledge  the  laws  of  the  Decalogue,  just 
quoted,  to  have  been  the  product  of  a  necessity  for 
such  in  human  society,  gradually  taught  by  ex- 
perience; and  herein  also  lies  the  reason  of  their 
unalterable  obligation.  Nevertheless,  we  cannot 
quite  overlook  the  loss  entailed  by  this  exchano-e : 
the  doctrine  of  their  divine  origin  hallowed  the 
laws,  while  our  view  of  their  growth  seems  to 
admit  merely  their  utility,  or  at  most,  their  ex- 


46  The  Ola  Faith  and  the  Neiv, 

ternal  necessity.  They  could  only  fully  recover 
tlieir  sanctity,  if  it  were  possible  likewise  to  dis- 
cover their  internal  necessity — their  derivation, 
not  only  from  social  wants,  but  from  the  nature  or 
essence  of  man. 

If  Jesus  gave  his  disciples  the  precept,  Do  unto 
others  as  ye  would  be  done  by,  this  precept 
possesses  an  immediate  divine  sanction  for  the 
believer,  by  reason  of  the  divine  dignity  of  Christ's 
person.  For  us,  on  the  contrary,  the  authority 
which  we  also  still  concede  to  this  person  consists 
in  his  having  enforced  more  precepts,  uttered  more 
thoucrhts  of  the  same  kind,  from  which  we  cannot 
withhold  our  assent,  it  making  no  difference  to 
the  value  of  those  thoughts  whether  they  had 
spontaneously  sprung  up  in  Christ's  mind  and 
heart,  or  he  w^as  indebted  for  them  to  some  tradi- 
tion. Moreover,  in  the  moral  precept  here  in  ques- 
tion, the  influence  of  a  time  cannot  be  overlooked 
when,  in  consequence  of  the  world-wide  Koman 
rule,  even  the  exclusive  Jewish  people  saw  their 
own  horizon  expanding  into  that  of  humanity  in  gen- 
eral. 

Jesus  was  no  philosopher,  and  has  not  therefore 
given  any  further  reasons  for  this  precept  than  for 
so  many   others.     But  the  precept   itself   is  in   a 


What  is  Our  Rule  of  Life?  47 

manner  philosophical.  It  does  not  appeal  to  a 
divine  injunction,  but  in  order  to  find  a  rule  for 
human  action,  abides  on  the  basis  of  human 
nature  (and  yet  not  solely  on  that  of  a  merely 
external  requirement).  But  this  is  exactly  the 
fundamental  position  which  philosophy  has  always 
taken. 

69. 
The  most  distinguished  practical  philosophers  we 
may  consider  to  have  been  the  Stoics,  in  the  ancient 
world,  and  in  the  modern,  Kant.  The  leading  moral 
doctrine  of  the  Stoics  was  to  live  according  to 
Nature.  If  they  were  asked,  to  what  Nature  ? 
some  answered,  according  to  the  human,  others  to 
the  general  Nature,  or  universal  law.  Now,  human 
nature  is  adapted  to  the  dominion  of  reason  over  the 
desires;  therefore  the  philosophical  emperor  wrote 
that,  to  the  reasonable  being,  acting  naturally  was 
equivalent  to  acting  reasonably.  And  as  the  same 
reason,  moreover,  which  is  said  to  reign  in  man  is 
also  the  divine  principle  pervading  the  whole  uni- 
verse, according  to  the  doctrine  of  the  Stoics,  the  man 
acting  in  consonance  with  his  own  reason,  acts  also 
consonantly  with  universal  reason.  And  as  by  this 
same  reason  he  knows  himself  to  be  part  of  the 


48  The  Old  Faith  and  the  N'cw. 

world,  and  especially  a  member  of  the  great  codi- 
munity  of  rational  beings,  he  recognizes  it  as  his 
duty  to  live,  not  only  to  himself,  but  also  for  the 
general  good. 

The  following  maxim  is  laid  down  by  Kant  as 
the  fundamental  law  of  practical  reason  :  ''  So  act 
that  the  dictate  of  thy  will  may  always  pass  at  the 
same  time  for  the  principle  of  a  general  legislation," 
That  is  to  say,  that  whenever  we  are  about  to  act, 
we  ought  first  to  make  clear  to  ourselves  the  principle 
we  are  going  to  act  upon,  asking  ourselves  how  it 
would  be  if  everybody  were  guided  by  the  same 
principle, — not  how  the  world  thus  produced  would 
please  us ;  our  relish  or  disrelish  is  to  be  put  en- 
tirely aside  in  this  case ;  but  whether  anything  at 
all  harmonious  could  be  thus  produced.  He  uses  the 
example  of  a  deposit,  w^hich  some  one,  on  the  death 
of  the  depositor,  and  in  the  certainty  of  there  being 
no  proofs  against  him,  might  feel  himself  inclined 
to  retain.  He  would  then,  according  to  Kant,  have 
to  make  clear  to  himself  the  principle  upon  which 
he  is  tempted  to  act :  that  everybody  might  deny 
the  receipt  of  a  deposit  which  nobody  could  prove 
to  have  been  entrusted  to  him.  But  as  soon  as  he 
begins  to  think  of  this  as  a  generally  accepted 
principle,  he  must  see  that  it  annihilates  itself;  for 


What  is  Our  Rule  of  Life  "^  49 

nobody  in  that  case  would  feel  inclined  to  make  a 
deposit.  It  is  clear  that  Kant  wants  to  go  beyond 
the  Do  as  ye  would  be  done  by ;  for  this  appeals 
to  inclination;  while  Kant  wishes  to  constitute 
reason  its  own  lawo-iver,  its  test  beino-  that  notliinor 
self-contradictory  can  be  deduced  from  its  precepts. 
But  Schopenhauer  not  unjustly  points  out  that  a 
moral  imperative  must  not  be  spun  together  out  of 
abstract  ideas,  but  be  connected  with  an  actually 
existing  impulse  of  human  nature.  Besides  selfish- 
ness (and  malice,  which,  however,  is  more  properly 
subordinated  to  it,  as  an  extreme  or  degeneracy  of 
selfishness),  Schopenhauer  considers  compassion  to 
be  the  spring  of  human  actions,  and  this  latter  is, 
in  his  eyes,  the  exclusive  source  of  moral  action. 
If  we  may  further  conceive  compassion  to  include 
also  sympathy,  we  shall  arrive  at  that  principle  of 
benevolence  which  it  was  the  custom,  especially  of 
the  Scotch  moralists  in  the  last  century,  to  oppose  to 
that  of  self-love.  But  -that  it  may  also  be  thus  con- 
ceived in  the  sense  in  which  it  is  used  by  Schopen- 
hauer, is  apparent  from  the  manner  in  wdiich  he 
classiües  the  actions  which  have  compassion  for  their 
source.  For  he  makes  a  distinction  between  actions 
in  which  the  (negative)  will  is  manifested  not  to 
injure   others,  or  actions   of  justice,   and  such  in 

VOL.  II.  E 


50  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New, 

which  the  (positive)  will  is  shown  to  assist  others, 
or  actions  of  philanthropy. 

By  this  reasoning  Schopenhauer  naturally  only 
obtains  duties  towards  others,  and  he  endeavours  to 
prove  at  much  length  that  man  can  have  no  duties 
towards  himself,  such  as  were  still  admitted  by 
Kant.  He  may  frequently  be  right  as  regards 
individual  facts,  but  his  deduction  does  not  seem 
to  cover  the  whole  field.  Let  us  take,  for  example, 
a  young  man  whose  duty  it  is  to  cultivate  his 
faculties :  can  compassion,  in  his  case,  be  the  spring 
of  action  which  shall  make  him  industrious  ?  Let 
us  call  it  sympathy,  as  we  said,  and  conceive  it  as 
consideration  for  society,  of  which  he  is  in  future  to 
be  a  useful  member;  for  Scho])enbauer  only  recog- 
nizes, as  a  moral  spring  of  action,  that  which 
manifests  itself  as  such  in  actual  life ;  but  it  is 
certainly  only  in  exceptional  cases  that  a  young 
man's  incentive  to  industry  and  learning  is  the  ^wij 
which  he  owes  to  society.  Consideration  even  for 
his  parents,  who  feel  pleasure  at  his  industry  and 
progress,  and  pain  at  the  reverse,  may  indeed  in- 
fluence him  to  some  extent,  but  cannot  be  reo-arded 
as  the  real  motive.  This  can  onl}^  be  the  impulse  of 
his  mental  energies  to  expand  and  exert  themselves. 
Should  it  be  objected  that  this  is  not  a  moral  but 


What  is  Oitr  Rule  of  Life?  51 

a  distinctlj^  selfisli  motive,  the  following  considera- 
tions would  have  to  be  regarded.  Besides  his  intel- 
lectual and  moral  capacities,  the  young  man  is 
conscious  in  himself  of  sensuous  forces  insisting  on 
being  exercised  and  developed,  and  that,  moreover, 
with  an  energy  and  a  violence  which  that  higher 
impulse  is  not  capable  of  displaying.  But  if,  never- 
theless, he  gives  free  |)lay  to  those  sensuous  im- 
pulses only  so  far  as  they  do  not  interfere  with  the 
development  of  his  higher  energies,  we  must  call 
this  an  ethical  action,  not  deducible  from  pity — not, 
in  fact,  manifesting  itself  in  the  moral  relations  of 
one  man  towards  others,  but  towards  himself 

70. 
I  should  sa}^  that  all  moral  action  arises  from  the 
individual's  acting  in  consonance  with  the  idea  ot 
kind.  To  realize  this,  in  the  first  place,  and  to  bring 
himself,  as  an  individual,  into  abiding  concord  with 
the  idea  and  the  destiny  of  mankind,  is  the  essence 
of  the  duties  which  man  owes  to  himself.  But  in 
the  second  place,  to  practically  recognize,  and  pi'o- 
mote  in  all  other  individuals  also,  this  permanently 
enduring  kind,  is  the  essence  of  our  duties  to  others ; 
where  we  must  draw  a  distinction  between  the 
negative  obligation  of  abstaining  from  injuring  others 


5  2  The  Old  FaitJi  and  the  New, 

in  their  equal  rights,  and  the  positive  one  of  assist- 
ing all  to  the  extent  of  our  ability,  or  between  duties 
of  justice  and  of  philanthropy. 

Accoiding  to  the  narrower  or  wider  circles  which 
humanity  draws  round  us,  these  duties  to  our 
neighbours  will  be  subject  to  further  subdivisions, 
defined  according  to  tlie  various  obligations  in- 
cumbent upon  us  in  our  relation  to  each  of  these 
circles.  In  the  narrowest,  but  also  most  intimate  of 
these — the  family — we  must  sustain  and  transmit 
what  we  have  received  from  it :  kindly  nurture  of 
life,  and  education  to  humanity.  To  the  State  we 
owe  the  firm  basis  for  our  existence,  the  security  of 
life  and  property  ;  and  by  means  of  the  school  our 
fitness  for  living  in  a  human  community  :  it  is  in- 
cumbent K)w  every  one  of  its  members  to  do  all 
which  their  position  in  society  enables  them,  to 
ensure  its  stability  and  prosperity.  From  the 
nation  we  have  received  our  language,  and  the 
entire  culture  connected  with  language  and  litera- 
ture; nationality  and  language  form  the  inmost 
bond  of  the  State ;  national  habits  are  also  the  basis 
of  family  life  :  to  the  nation  we  must  be  ready  to  con- 
secrate our  best  energies — if  need  be,  our  lives.  But 
we  must  recognize  our  ow^n  nation  to  be  but  one 
member  of  the  body  of  humanity,  of  which  we  must 


What  is  Our  Ride  of  Life '^  53 

not  wish  any  other  member,  any  other  nation,  to  be 
mutilated  or  stunted;  as  humanity  can  only  flourish 
as  a  whole  in  the  harmonious  development  of  all 
her  members;  as  again,  her  stamp  is  to  be  recognized 
and  respected  in  every  single  individual,  to  whatever 
nation  he  may  belong. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  duties  of  man  vary 
according  to  the  position  which  he  occupies  in  the 
human  community;  besides  the  universally  human, 
there  are  also  special  professional,  or  class  duties. 
The  individual's  class  is  in  many  instances  deter- 
mined for  him ;  his  profession,  on  the  other  hand, 
being  usually  a  matter  of  free  choice,  and  this  again 
an  object  of  moral  determination.  Choose  that  pro- 
fession, runs  the  precept  here,  by  means  of  which, 
in  the  measure  of  your  special  endowment,  you  can 
render  the  best  services  to  the  commonwealth,  and 
find  the  greatest  satisfaction  for  yourself. 

What  is  chiefly  meant  liere,  is  an  internal  satis- 
faction, which  each  living  being  finds  when  it 
develops  and  acts  in  consonance  with  tlie  pecu- 
liar set  of  capacities  of  which  its  individual  form 
is  a  manifestation ;  for  the  moral  being,  or  man, 
too,  this  is  about  all  the  truth  there  is  in  what 
is  still  very  crudely  called  the  reward  of  virtue  or 
piety.     This  so-called  reward  is  also  usually  brought 


54  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New. 

into  such  a  merely  external  relation  with  that  of 
which  it  is  to  be  the  recompense  that  a  deity  is  neces- 
sary to  connect  the  two ;  nay,  this  necessity  is  even 
made  an  aro-ument  for  the  existence  of  God.  From 
our  standpoint,  so  inseparable  from  moral  action  is 
its  reflex  in  feeling,  or  beatitude,  that  at  most  it  can 
but  take  color  from  external  circumstances  but  can 
never  lose  its  value  as  beatitude. 

If  morality  is  the  relation  of  man  to  the  idea  of 
his  kind,  which  in  part  he  endeavours  to  realize  in 
himself,  in  part  recognizes  and  seeks  to  promote  in 
others,  religion,  on  the  other  hand,  is  his  relation  to 
the  idea  of  the  universe,  the  ultimate  source  of  all 
life  and  being.  So  far,  it  may  be  said  that  religion  is 
above  morality;  as  it  springs  from  a  still  profounder 
source,  reaches  back  into  still  more  primitive  ground. 
Ever  remember  that  thou  art  human,  not  merely 
a  natural  production ;  ever  remember  that  all 
others  are  human  also,  and,  with  all  individual 
differences,  the  same  as  thou,  having  the  same  needs 
and  claims  as  thyself:  this  is  the  sum  and  sub- 
stance of  morality. 

Ever  remember  that  thou,  and  everything  thou 

beholdest  within  and  around  thee,  all  that   befals 
'thee  and  others,  is  no  disjointed  fragment,  no  wild 

chaos  of  atoms  or  casualties,  but  that  it  all  springs, 


What  is  Our  Rule  of  Life?  55 

according  to  eternal  laws,  from  the  one  primal 
source  of  all  life,  all  reason,  and  all  good  :  this  is  the 
essence  of  religion. 

That  thou  art  human — what,  after  all,  means  this 
How  shall  we  so  define  man,  that  we  not  merely 
catch  hold  of  empty  phrases,  but  combine  the  re- 
sults  of  actual   experience  into   one  distinct   con- 
ception ? 

71. 

"The  most  important  general  result,"  says 
Moritz  Wagner,  "  which  comparative  Geology  and 
Palaeontology" — and  the  Natural  Sciences  in  general, 
"we  may  add — "reveal  to  us,  is  the  great  law  of 
progress  pervading  all  Nature.  From  the  oldest 
times  of  the  earth's  history  of  which  any  traces  of 
organic  life  survive,  up  to  the  present  creation,  this 
continuous  progress  is  a  matter  of  fact  established 
by  the  experience  of  the  appearance  of  more 
highly-developed  beings  than  the  past  had  to  show. 
And  this  fact  is  perhaps  the  most  consolatory  of  all 
the  truths  ever  discovered  by  science.  In  this 
inherent  aspiration  of  Nature  after  an  unceasingly 
progressive  improvement  and  refinement  of  her 
organic  forms,  consists .  also  the  real  proof  of  her 
divinity.    A  noble  utterance,"  adds  Wagner,  "  which 


56  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New, 

the  naturalist,  however,  interprets  in  an  essentially 
different  sense  from  the  priest  of  a  so-callod  revealed 
religion." 

In  this  cumulative  progression  of  life  man  is  also 
comprised,  and  moreover,  in  such  wise  that  the 
organic  plasticity  of  our  planet  (provisionally,  say 
some  naturalists,  that  we  may  fairly  leave  an  open 
question),  culminates  in  him.  As  Nature  cannot 
go  higher,  she  would  go  inwards.  To  be  reflected 
within  itself  was  a  very  good  expression  of  Hegel's. 
Nature  felt  herself  already  in  the  animal,  but  she 
wished  to  know  herself  also. 

Here  is  that  legitimation  of  mans  impulse  and 
activity  in  exploring  and  understanding  Nature, 
which  we  miss  in  Christianity.  Man  is  labouring 
in  his  own  especial  vocation  if  not  one  of  Nature's 
creatures  appears  to  him  too  insignificant  for  the 
investigation  of  its  structure  and  habits,  but  neither 
any  star  too  remote  to  be  drawn  within  the 
sphere  of  his  observation,  for  the  calculation  of  its 
motions  and  its  course.  From  the  Christian  point 
of  view,  this,  as  well  as  the  pursuit  of  wealth,  appears 
a  waste  of  time  and  energy,  which  ought  to  be 
exclusively  devoted  to  securing  the  weal  of  the 
Boul.  It  was  already  during  the  transition  to  a 
new  era,  when  the  poet  of  the  Messiah  sang  the 


What  is  Our  Rtde  of  Life  ?  57 

beautiful  task,  ''  to  think  once  more  the  great 
thought  of  the  Creation/'  even  the  creation  of 
Mother  Nature  herself. 

In  man,  Nature  endeavoured  not  merely  to 
exalt,  but  to  transcend  herself.  He  must  not,  there- 
fore, be  merely  an  animal  repeated;  he  must  be 
somethino-  more,  somethino^  better.  He  ouo-ht,  be- 
cause  he  can.  The  sensual  efforts  and  enjoyments 
are  already  fully  developed  and  exhausted  in  the 
animal  kingdom  ;  it  is  not  for  their  sakes  that 
man  exists ;  as,  in  fact,  no  creature  exists  for  the 
sake  of  that  which  was  already  attained  on  lower 
stages  of  existence,  but  for  that  which  has  been 
newly  conquered  through  itself.  Thus,  man  must 
interpenetrate  and  rule  the  animal  in  him,  by  his 
higher  faculties,  by  the  qualities  which  distinguish 
him  from  the  brute.  The  wild  savage  struggle  for 
existence  has  already  had  abundant  play  in  the 
brute  world.  Man  cannot  entirely  avoid  it,  in  so 
far  as  he  is  still  a  mere  product  of  Nature ;  but  in 
the  measure  of  his  higher  faculties,  he  should  know 
how  to  ennoble  it,  and  in  regard  to  his  fellow-men 
should  mitigate  it,  especially  by  the  consciousness 
of  their  kindred  and  the  mutual  obligation  of  race. 
The  wild  turbulence  of  Nature  must  be  appeased  in 
mankind ;  man  must  be,  so  to  speak,  the  placidiim 


58  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New, 

caput,  the  Virgil's  Neptune  reared  above  the 
tumultuous  waves,  in  order  to  calm  them. 

Man  not  only  can  and  should  know  Nature,  but 
rule  both  external  Nature,  as  far  as  his  powers  admit, 
and  the  natural  within  himself.  Here  again  a  most 
important  and  productive  field  of  human  activity 
finds  the  recognition  and  the  sanction  denied  it  by 
Christianity.  Not  only  the  inventor  of  printing — 
which,  among  other  things,  was  also  a  powerful  agent 
in  the  dissemination  of  the  Bible — but  those,  too, 
who  tauo'ht  the  steam-enorine  to  shoot  alonof  the  iron 
road,  thought  and  speech  to  fiash  along  the  electric 
wire — works  of  the  devil,  according  to  the  consis- 
tent view  of  our  pietists — are  from  our  standpoint 
fellow -labourers  in  the  kingdom  of  God.  Technical 
and  industrial  arts,  although  they  promote  luxury, 
which  is,  however,  a  relative  notion,  promote  hu- 
manity also. 

I  would  add  one  thing  more.  Man  ought  to  rule 
the  Nature  around  him — not  like  a  fierce  tyrant 
however,  but  like  a  man.  Part  of  the  Nature  whose 
forces  he  constrains  to  his  service  consists  of  sentient 
beings.  The  brute  is  cruel  to  the  brute,  because, 
although  having  very  strong  sensations  of  its  own 
hunger  or  fur}-,  it  has  not  an  equally  distinct  con- 
ce])tion  of  the  pain  its  treatment  inflicts  on  others. 


What  is  Our  Rule  of  Life?  59 

Man  possesses  tins  distinct  conception,  or,  at  least, 
is  capable  of  possessing  it.  He  knows  that  the 
animal  is  as  much  a  sentient  being  as  he  is  himself. 
Notwithstanding,  he  is  convinced — and  not  unjustly, 
we  consider — that  in  order  to  maintain  his  position 
in  the  world,  he  cannot  do  otherwise  than  inflict 
pain  on  some  animals.  Some  he  must  seek  to  ex- 
terminate, because  they  are  dangerous  or  offensive  ; 
others  he  must  kill,  because  he  requires  their  flesh 
as  food,  their  skins  for  clothing ;  others,  again,  he 
must  subjugate,  and  compel  to  manifold  toils, 
because  he  cannot  dispense  with  their  assistance  in 
his  traffic,  his  labour.  As  a  being,  however,  who  is 
cognizant  of  the  pain  which  the  animal  suffers  in 
the  process,  and  who  can  reconstruct  it  in  himself 
as  sympathy,  he  should  endeavour  to  bring  all  this 
upon  animals  so  as  to  involve  the  least  possible 
amount  of  suffering.  In  one  case,  therefore,  he 
should  expedite  slaughter  as  much  as  possible;  in 
the  other,  render  service  as  tolerable  as  may  be. 
Man  pays  heavily  for  the  violation  of  these  duties, 
as  it  blunts  his  feeling.  Criminal  history  shows  us 
how  many  torturers  of  men,  and  murderers,  have 
first  been  torturers  of  animals.  The  manner  in 
which  a  nation  in  the  aggregate  treats  animals,  is 
one   chief  measure   of   its   real  civilization.      The 


6o  TJie  Old  Faith  and  the  New* 

Latin  races,  as  we  know,  come  forth  "badly  from 
this  examination;  we  Germans,  not  half  well 
enouo'h.  Buddhism  has  done  more  in  this  direction 
than  Christianity,  and  Schopenhauer  more  than 
all  ancient  and  modern  philosophers  together.  The 
warm  sympathy  with  sentient  Nature  which  per- 
vades all  the  writings  of  Schopenhauer,  is  one  of  the 
most  pleasing  aspects  of  his  thoroughly  intellectual, 
yet  often  unhealthy  and  unprofitable  philosophy. 

72. 

Man  ought,  we  said,  to  rule  Nature  within  as  well 
as  without  him.  Nature  in  man  is  his  sensuousness. 
This  he  should  essay  to  rule,  not  to  mortify,  so 
surely  as  Nature  in  him  did  not  forsake,  but  tran- 
scend herself. 

Sensualism  we  call  that  disposition  of  a  being 
by  means  of  which  it  feels  external  influences,  these 
feelings  inciting  it  to  action.  The  higher  the 
animal,  the  less  immediately  is  every  special  in- 
fluence followed  by  action.  The  higher  animal 
remembers  what  it  did  on  occasion  of  a  similar 
influence,  and  what  consequences  were  thereby 
entailed,  and  shapes  its  present  conduct  accordingly. 
On  this  rests  the  animal's  capacity  for  education. 
If  the  dog,  the  horse,  invariably  suffer  pain  after 


What  is  Our  Rule  of  Life?  6i 

any  action  to  which  they  were  led  by  a  special 
influence,  they  will  omit  the  action  even  upon  the 
recurrence  of  the  same  influence.  But  wild  animals, 
also,  as  w^e  have  already  said,  have  experiences,  and 
make  use  of  them.  The  fox,  the  marten,  are  rarely 
enticed  a  second  time  into  a  trap  from  which  they 
have  once  made  good  their  escape.  The  animal 
remembers,  compares  several  cases,  and  acts  accord- 
ingly ;  but  it  is  incapable  of  deriving  thence  a 
general  principle,  an  actual  idea.  The  same  may 
be  said  of  its  cognition  of  the  kind,  the  species,  to 
which  it  belongs.  The  cock-pigeon  will  not  mis- 
take a  hen  fcr  a  pigeon,  yet  will  be  incapable  of 
forming  the  conception  of  a  pigeon-species. 

Man's  development  of  this  capacity  within  him- 
self, by  means  of  language,  gives  him,  from  a 
practical  point  of  view,  also,  an  enormous  start  of 
the  animal.  It  is  naturally  the  more  unseemly  in 
him  to  allow  his  actions  to  be  determined  by  the  im- 
pulse of  the  moment.  If  he  compares  the  individual 
case  with  others  which  have  preceded  it,  and  is 
guided  by  the  experience  he  has  gathered  thence, 
he  has  still  merely  put  himself  on  a  par  with  the 
higher  animals.  It  is  only  when  he  has  deduced  a 
principle  from  his  experiences,  conceived  this  as'  an 
idea,  and  regulated  his  actions  accordingly,  that  he 


62  The  Old  Faith  and  the  A^ew. 

has  raised  himself  to  the  height  of  humanity.  A 
rude  peasant  lad  or  workman  is  ready  with  a  stab  at 
the  slightest  blow,  or  even  at  an  unpleasant  word ; 
he  is  no  better  than  a  brute,  and  a  very  ignoble  brute 
too.  Another  remembers,  on  a  like  irritation,  how 
stabbing  has  been  the  cause  of  this  or  that  man 
being  locked  up  in  gaol :  he  forbears,  therefore,  and 
is  in  consequence  as  good  as  a  well-trained  dog,  or 
a  fox  made  shrev/d  by  experience.  A  third  has 
thought  the  matter  over ;  he  has  formed  the  prin- 
ciple, or  learnt  at  school,  that  the  life  of  man  ought 
to  be  sacred  to  man ;  he  is  the  first  who  behaves 
humanly;  it  will  not  even  occur  to  him  to  grasp 
his  knife.  So  potent  a  protection  against  the  power 
of  sensualism  has  man  in  his  intelligence  1 

The  perception  of  kind  acts  as  sensation  in  the 
brute,  as  well  as  in  man  ;  but  with  man  alone  it  is 
a  conscious  principle  of  action.  The  fellow-feeling 
of  kind  does  not  prevent  beasts  of  prey  from 
rending  others  of  their  species,  does  not  prevent 
the  he-cat  from  occasionally  devouring  its  own 
young ;  as  neither  does  it  prevent  human  beings 
from  mutual!}'  slaughtering  each  other.  The  con- 
sciousness of  kind  certainly  does  not  interfere  with 
their  doing  so.  Were  our  lives  always  secure 
with  every  one  capable  of  formulating  in  his  mind 


What  is  Our  Rule  of  Life  ?  63 

the  conception  of  kind,  including  us  in  it  as  well  as 
himself,  it  would  be  well  with  us.  But  there  are 
various  ways  of  formulating  this  conception,  and 
the  point  is  just  this, — ^that  we  lead  men  to  for- 
mulate it  in  the  riglit  manner.  In  the  first  place, 
of  course,  it  is  nothing  but  a  name,  an  empty- 
sounding 'phrase,  which  can  have  no  sort  of  effect. 
To  become  effective,  it  must  be  filled  with  the 
whole  meaning  of  which  it  is  capable.  It  is  men's 
conception  of  man  that  ensures  them  their  position 
on  the  summit  of  Nature,  and  enables  them,  by 
comparison  and  reflection,  to  resist  the  promptings 
of  sense.  But  in  the  next  place,  the  solidarity  of 
mankind  consists  not  only  in  a  common  descent 
and  resemblance  of  organic  structure,  such  as  also 
forms  the  bond  of  every  brute  species;  but  is  of 
such  a  nature,  that  man  can  only  come  to  be  a  man 
by  the  co-operation  of  men,  mankind  forming  a 
consolidated  united  community  in  a  sense  quite 
other  from  that  of  any  species  of  animal.  It  is 
only  by  the  help  of  man  that  man  has  been  able  to 
raise  himself  above  Nature ;  and  only  in  so  far  as 
he  acknowledges  and  treats  others  as  his  equals,  as 
he  respects  the  institutions  of  the  family,  the  stats, 
can  he  maintain  himself  at  this  height,  and  develop 
himself  still  further.     At  the  same  time,  it  is  of  tho 


64  The  Old  Faith  and  the  Ä/ew. 

highest  importance  that  this  knowledge  should  be 
retransmitted,  and  enkindled  by  emotion, — that 
tlie  moral  piinciples  thus  acquired  should  become 
man's  second  nature.  Thus  the  sentiment  of 
human  dignity  should  grow  into  a  habit  in  his 
relation  to  himself,  and  sympathy  in  its  various 
gradations  in  his  relation  to  others ;  and  every 
violation  of  the  one  or  the  other  should  find  its  echo 
in  the  moral  verdict  of  the  conscience. 

We  need  not  here  enter  on  a  discussion  of  the 
question  of  free-will.  Every  philosophy  deserving 
the  name,  has  always  considered  the  reputed  indif- 
ferent freedom  of  choice  as  an  empty  phantom ; 
but  the  moral  worth  of  human  principles  and 
actions  remains  untouched  by  that  question. 

73. 

One  of  the  most  potent  of  the  seductions  of  sense 
is  the  sexual  instinct ;  on  which  account  sensuous- 
ness  is  frequently  understood  only  as  that  which  is 
connected  with  this  impulse  in  man. 

Antiquity,  as  is  kno^vn  to  all,  regarded  this  im- 
pulse in  a  different  light  from  our  modern  Christian 
era.  It  judged  and  treated  it  with  an  ingenuous- 
ness which  sometimes  appears  to  us  as  immodesty 
It  claimed  for  it  the  fullest  rioht  of  existence  and 


What  is  Our  Rule  of  Life  1  65 

activity.  In  the  ancient  religions,  especially  of 
Asia  Minor,  we  find  this  tendency  expressed  in  the 
most  monstrous  of  forms  and  usages.  The  Greeks, 
durins:  tl.eir  best  ao^e,  knew  at  least  how  to  restrain 
it  within  the  forms  of  the  humanly  beautiful ;  while 
the  Romans,  after  a  greater  display  of  austerity  in 
the  first  instance,  ended  by  making  their  capital 
not  only  the  emporium  of  the  treasures  of  the 
conquered  East,  but  imported  into  it  also  all  the 
unbridled  extravagance  of  its  licentiousness.  The 
detestation  in  which  the  Jews  held  the  religion  of 
their  Syrian  neighbours  preserved  them  likewise 
from  their  excesses ;  while,  on  the  other  hand, 
marriage  and  the  begetting  of  children  were  held 
in  high  esteem  among  them.  But  they  could  not 
repel  the  universal  moral  corruption  which  over- 
took the  ancient  world,  towards  the  decline  of  the 
Roman  Republic  and  the  beginning  of  the  Empire, 
and  in  which  the  demoralization  of  the  sexual  rela- 
tions pla^^ed  an  important  part. 

Men  w^ere  satiated  with  pleasures  of  all  kinds; 
they  were  seized  with  nausea,  and  the  world  was 
overcome  by  such  a  mood  as,  according  to  the 
"  AVest-Oestlicher  Divan,"  Persians  call  Udamag 
luden,  and  Germans  Jcatzenjammer — cat-sickness — a 
result  of  being  out  late  at  night  and  concomitant 
practices.     It   had    had  an  over-dose  of  sensuality. 


66  The  Old  Faith  and  the  Neiv. 

disoTist  and  abhorrence  succeeded .  in  their  turn. 
Here  and  there  in  the  Roman  Empire,  dualistic  ideas 
and  ascetic  tendencies  began  to  manifest  themselves. 
An  aversion  to  the  world  of  sense  is  already  ob- 
servable among  the  so-called  Neo-Pythagoreans ;  and 
now  even  amon^the  Jews — lovers  of  children  and 
marriage  as  they  were — sprang  up  the  sect  of  Es- 
senes  whose  stricter  notions  impelled  them  to  reject 
marriage,  as  well  as  the  use  of  wine  and  meat. 

The  same  spirit  influenced  the  beginnings  of 
Christianity,  whose  connection  with  the  Essene 
doctrines  continues  to  be  an  hypothesis  as  irrefutable 
as  it  is  indemonstrable.  We  cannot  fail  to  recog- 
nize an  ascetic  tendency  in  the  Apostle  Paul,  nay,  in 
Jesus  himself,  especially  as  regards  the  relation  of 
the  sexes.  The  apostle  of  the  Gentiles  only  toler- 
ates marriage  as  being  the  lesser  evil  in  comparison 
with  licentious  desires,  while  he  considers  celibacy  as 
being  the  only  state  in  which  it  was  possible  to  serve 
God  with  an  undivided  heart.  But  Jesus  teaches, 
in  his  Sermon  on  the  Mount,  that  he  who  looked 
upon  a  woman  to  desire  her,  had  already  committed 
adultery  with  her  in  his  heart. '  It  is  true  that  here 
there  is  considerable  doubt  as  to  the  true  exegesis, 
and  it  may  be  more  correct  to  consider  the  text  as 
referring  solely  to  the  wife   of  another,  thus  only 


What  is  Our  Rule  of  Life?  67 

inculcating  anew  the  ninth  commandment.  If  it 
be  inward  adultery,  however,  to  lust  after  the  wife 
of  another,  the  same  feeling  for  an  unmarried 
woman,  who  is  not  yet  mine,  must  be  inward  forni- 
cation: this,  then,  must  have  preceded  all  marriages, 
except  such  as  were  contracted  for  the  sake  of  posi- 
tion, etc. 

In  the  entire  Christian  conception  of  man,  sen- 
sualism in  the  sense  in  which  we  here  understand 
it,  is  something  which  positively  ought  not  to  have 
existed,  which  first  came  into  the  world  by  the  fall 
of  man.  It  is  true  that,  according  to  tlie  old 
Hebrew  narrative,  Adam  and  Eve,  when  still  in 
Paradise,  were  also  to  beget  children  and  multiply ; 
but  this,  according  to  the  Fathers  of  the  Church, 
was  to  be  without  desire  and  gratification,  in  which 
case  mankind  must  have  died  out,  even  as  it  would 
starve,  if  eating  were  not  pleasant,  nor  hunger 
painful. 

On  the  contrary,  these  sensuous  impulses  lie  in 
the  normal  disposition  of  human  nature,  because  in 
fact  they  are  comprised  within  the  laws  of  animal 
life  where  man's  belong.  Only  with  man  they 
should  not,  as  with  the  brute,  constitute  the  whole 
stimulus,  but  be  ennobled  with  human  sympathies. 
One  of  these  ennobling  factors  consists,  in  the  first 


68  The  Old  Faith  and  the  Ahw, 

instance,  in  the  sestlietic  impulse,  the  sense  of  the 
beautiful,  which  plays  a  more  or  less  important  part, 
according  to  the  degree  of  culture  of  each  individual. 
But  it  does  not  suffice  by  itself     In  no  nation  was 
the  sense  of  the  beautiful  more  developed  than  with 
the   Greeks,    especially   in   regard   to   the  relation 
of  the  sexes;  and  yei:  at  last  this  degenerated  to  the 
uttermost.     The  ethico-emotional  factor  was  want- 
ino- — such  as   ought  to   unfold  itself  in  marriage. 
Poetry  has  handed  down  to  us  two  beautiful  pic- 
tures of  Greek  marriage  in  the  heroic  age  ;  but  just 
at  the  culminating  period  of  the  political  and  social 
life  of  this  people,  the  almost  orientally  secluded  wife 
was  effaced  behind    the   cultivated   Tietmrce.      The 
matron  at   first  was  held  in  high  esteem  by  the 
Romans,  but  the  harshness  ef  the  Roman  character 
at  last  revealed  itself  in  this  relation  ;  and  thus,  in 
the  later  times  of  the   Empire,  it  ended  in   utter 
licentiousness. 

It  is  disputed  whether  Christianity  or  the  Teutonic 
race  ennobled  marriage  b}'-  infusing  an  emotional 
element  into  it,  and  thus  imparting  to  it  a  higher 
ethical  sanction.  It  is  historical^  demonstrable, 
that  with  the  advent  of  Christianity,  and  its  admit- 
tance into  the  circles  of  heathen  society  favourable 
to  it,  the  redundance  of  the  sensuous  element  was 


What  is  Our  Rule  of  Life  1  69 

pruned  away,  while  the  conjugal  and,  in  fact,  the 
domestic  relations  generally,  gained  in  sweetness 
and  depth;  but  asceticism  made  its  appearance 
a,t  the  same  time,  and  hypocrisy  tarried  not  to 
follow  in  its  wake.  The  healthy  Teutonic  mind 
needed  much  time,  and  the  aid  of  classical  antiquity 
tlirough  the  study  of  the  humanities,  before  in  the 
Reformation  it  succeeded  in  casting  off  at  least  as- 
ceticism without,  however,  on  account  of  its  per- 
verted conception  of  the  sensuous,  being  able  to  radi- 
cally free  itself  of  hypocrisy  and  sanctimoniousness. 
Monogamy  was  the  established  custom  in  nearly 
the  whole  of  the  circle  where  Christianity  was  first 
adopted ;  especially  so  among  the  Germanic  nations ; 
and  this  has,  as  contrasted  with  polygamy,  to 
which  Islamism  imparted  a  fresh  impetus,  proved 
itself  to  be  the  higher  form,  from  the  fact  that 
polygamous  nations,  even  after  the  most  promising 
beginnings,  have  yet  invariably  remained  station- 
ary at  much  lower  stages  of  civilization.  The 
chief  reason  of  this  lies,  doubtless,  in  the  difficulties 
which  are  attendant  on  education  in  the  polygamous 
state.  But  we  cannot  recognize  the  fact  of  Chris- 
tianity now  declaring  its  monogamous  marriage 
indissoluble,  with  the  exception  of  one  single  ground 
of  divorce,  as  having  been  a  laudable  achievement, 


70  The  Old  Faith  and  the  Aew, 

either  in  the  cause  of  marriage  or  mankind.  In 
opposition  to  the  prevalent  abuse,  according  to 
which  the  Jewish  husband  could  quite  arbitrarily 
divorce  his  wife,  Jesus,  as  an  idealist,  went  to  the 
other  extreme,  in  declaring  marriage  morally  indis- 
soluble, save  in  the  case  of  the  adultery  of  one  of 
the  parties.  The  question  of  divorce,  however,  is 
one  of  such  complex  practical  bearing,  that  a 
solution  of  it  is  only  possible  by  the  most  varied 
experience,  and  not  by  mere  feeling,  however 
highly  pitched,  or  at  the  dictum  of  a  single  general 
principle.  Such  experience,  however,  was  not 
possible  to  Christ,  not  only  because  he  himself  was 
unmarried,  but  also  because,  on  his  own  showing,  he 
Avas  adverse  to  interfering  with  the  family  concerns 
of  others.  To  this  may  be  added,  that  although  in 
ruder  times  and  conditions,  adultery  only  might 
have  been  a  sufficient  cause  of  divorce,  yet  with  the 
progress  of  civilization,  a  multitude  of  subtler  dis- 
tinctions have  been  superadded,  which  may  render 
a  beneficial  continuation  of  conjugal  life  as  impossi- 
ble as  adultery. 

The  problem  of  the  marriage  law  is  only  to  be 
solved  by  a  compromise.  It  is  necessary,  on  the 
one  hand,  to  resist  caprice  and  to  uphold  marriage, 
not  only  as  a  thing  of  sensuous  desire  or  aesthetic 


What  is  Our  Rule  of  Life  ?  71 

pleasure,  but  of  rational  will,  and  moral  duty.  Es- 
pecially must  it  be  upheld  on  account  of  the  children, 
whose  existence  or  non-existence  must  materially 
modify  the  state  of  the  case.  But  this  must  be  done 
without,  on  the  other  hand,  making  it  too  difficult 
to  unloose  the  knot,  when  prolonged  experience  and 
careful  examination  have  proved  the  impossibility  of 
an  advantageous  union. 

74. 

After  these  general  ethical  speculations,  however, 
we  must  bethink  ourselves  of  the  real  ground  on. 
which  all  moral  relation??  are  formed. 

According  to  a  law  pervading  the  whole  of 
Nature,  mankind  is  divided  into  races,  as  it  further- 
more, in  accord  with  the  configuration  of  the  earth's 
surface  and  the  course  of  history,  coalesces  into 
families  and  nations.  The  subdivisions  have  not 
been  the  same  at  all  times:  sometimes  smaller 
aggregations  have  combined  into  larger  masses; 
sometimes  a  greater  mass  has  again  resolved  itself 
into  smaller  groups.  The  external  circumstances 
have  undergone  similar  changes :  sometimes  the 
tribes  have  migrated  into  remote  regions,  or  at 
other  times  thej^  have  at  least  modified  their  respec- 
tive boundaries.     More  and  more,  in  the  course  of 


72  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New. 

time,  did  seas  or  mountains,  deserts  or  steppes, 
assert  their  influence  as  permanent  barriers,  v/ithin 
whose  precincts  the  nations  began  to  establish 
themselves,  each  with  its  own  language  and  cus- 
toms. These  boundaries,  nevertheless,  are  not  oi 
an  immutable  character,  especially  as  they  are  not 
everywhere  marked  out  very  distinctly ;  even  after 
the  human  multitudes  have  become  fairly  settled 
there  is  yet  a  perpetual  pushing  and  pressing,  en- 
croachment and  defence  taking  place  on  a  smaller 
scale. 

So  far,  History  consists  in  the  internal  de- 
velopment of  these  races,  their  friction  and 
intermingling,  and  the  subjugation  of  one  by 
the  other,  and  at  last,  of  many  by  one ;  next,  in  the 
fall  of  great  empires,  and  subsequent  formation  of 
smaller  states ;  and  all  this  accompanied  by  a  con- 
tinual transformation  of  manners  and  customs,  an 
increase  of  knowledge  and  aptitudes,  a  refinement 
of  culture  and  sentiment, — a  progress  often  inter- 
rupted, however,  partly  by  gradual  retrogression, 
partly  also  by  sudden  relapses.  We  see,  at  the 
same  time,  how  the  horizon  of  mankind  is  gradually 
enlarged,  and  especially  how  the  harshest  and  most 
violent  of  those  changes — the  attempts  at  founding 
universal  empires — although  destructive  of  much 


What  is  Our  Rule  of  Life  "^  73 

individual  happiness  and  affluence,  nevertheless 
serve  essentially  to  promote  the  progress  of  the 
race. 

No  one  was  so  decried  by  the  advocates  of  civili- 
zation and  culture  in  the  last  century,  as  a  con- 
queror :  the  godless  author  of  the  Pucelle  and  the 
god-inspired  chanter  of  the  Messiah  vied  with 
each  other  in  expressing  their  abhorrence  of  these 
sanguinary  persons ;  and  if  the  first  could  not  for- 
give the  great  Frederic  his  Silesian  war,  the  other 
entirely  forgot  that  we  could  scarcely  have  had 
Christianity  without  the  invasion  of  Asia  by 
Alexander  the  Great.  Wo  have  since  then  been 
taught,  by  a  profo under  consideration  of  history, 
that  it  is  the  impulse  towards  development  in 
nations  and  mankind  which  acts  through  the 
personal  motives — the  love  of  glory  or  the  love  of 
sway — of  these  individuals,  only  assuming  different 
shapes  in  them  according  to  their  individual  and 
national  peculiarities,  on  which  depend  their 
various  degrees  of  intrinsic  merit.  But  whatever 
the  difference  between  the  intellectual  and  moral 
worth,  as  well  as  the  military  and  political  impor- 
tance of  an  Alexander  and  an  Attila,  a  Oresar  and  a 
Napoleon,  it  must  be  admitted  that  they  were  all 
agents  in  the  world's  history ;  we  cannot  imagine  the 


74  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New, 

development  of  mankind,  the  progress  of  civiliza- 
tion, as  taking  place  without  their  intervention. 

Inasmuch  as  war  is  the  method  of  the  conqueroi 
and  it  is  this  iron  instrument  which  inflicts  such 
sanguinary  wounds  on  the  nations,  the  humani- 
tarian zeal  of  our  time  has  declared  itself  against 
war.  It  is  absolutely  condemned,  and  societies  are 
formed,  conferences  held,  in  order  to  ensure  its 
complete  abolition.  Why  do  they  not  also  agitate 
for  the  abolition  of  thunderstorms  ?  I  must  always 
repeat.  The  one  is  not  only  just  as  impossible,  but, 
as  things  are,  as  undesirable  as  the  other.  Just  as 
electricity  will  always  be  accumulating  in  the 
clouds,  so  from  time  to  time  causes  of  war  will 
always  be  accumulating  in  the  nations.  The  boun- 
daries of  the  various  nations  and  states  of  the 
earth  will  never  be  so  equally  balanced  as  exactty 
to  meet  their  wants  and  wishes ;  and  in  the  interior 
life  of  the  different  states,  there  will  likewise  occur 
dislocations,  obstructions,  and  stagnations,  proving 
intolerable  in  the  long  run.  Within  the  party 
conflicts  of  the  same  nation,  recourse  can  usually  be 
Ijad  to  pacific  arrangements  ;  inferior  points  of  dis- 
pute between  two  nations  may  admit  of  settlement 
by  means  of  a  freely-chosen  umpire ;  in  the 
difierences,  however,  which  arise  concerning  ques- 


What  is  Our  Rule  of  Life?  75 

tions  v^itally  affecting  their  existence  or  power, 
although  for  a  time  they  may  endeavour  to  come 
to  an  agreement,  yet,  as  a  rule,  this  will  be  nothing 
but  an  armistice  till  one  of  the  parties  feels  strong- 
enough  by  itself,  or  with  the  assistance  of  alhes, 
to  break  the  peace.  Cannon  will  continue  to  be 
the  ultima  ratio  of  nations,  as  once  of  j^rinces. 

I  say,  once  of  princes.  For  we  must  endeavour 
in  every  way,  (although  it  is  partly  being  adjusted 
of  itself)  that  the  commencement  of  war  shall  be  less 
and  less  in  the  power  of  the  capricious  ambition  of 
princes. 

Napoleon  III.  would  not  have  declared  the  last 
war,  had  he  not  known  that  he  was  supported  in 
it  by  his  vain  and  restless  people — nay,  if  he  had 
not  felt  himself  impelled  by  them;  and  King  William 
would  have  tried  t<)  avoid  the  war,  had  he  not  been 
conscious  that,  in  accepting  it,  he  was  acting  accord- 
ing to  the  spirit  and  feeling  of  the  brave  German 
nation.  The  acceptance  of  the  war  was,  then,  on 
the  part  of  the  Germans,  a  purely  rational  action : 
had  Kant  himself  been  the  minister  of  the  Kino-  of 
Prussia,  he  could  have  advised  nothing  else.  But 
all  this  of  necessity  presupposes  the  existence  of  un- 
reasoning passion,  and  it  will  never  be  wanting 
in  nations  or  individuals,  as  long  as  men  are  men. 


76  The  Old  Fait  J i  and  the  Akw, 

War  will  come  to  be  of  rarer  occurrence,  but  not 
cease  altogether. 

The  ladies  and  gentlemen  Avho  spoke  at  tlie 
famous  Peace  Congress  at  Lausanne  could  hardly 
be  expected  to  know  the  Odes  of  Horace  '(y^  heart; 
or  else  one  might  have  reminded  them  of  the  verse 
about  the  fury  of  the  savage  lion,  a  piece  of  which, 
it  says,  the  man-shaper,  Prometheus,  added  to  the 
human  heart.  But,  in  fact,  the  theory  of  their 
neighbour  Carl  Yogt,  which  doubtless  has  their 
full  assent,  ought  to  have  led  them  to  the  same  con- 
viction. If  man  is  descended  from  the  animal, 
even  as  its  highest,  most  refined  offshoot,  then  he 
is  originally  an  irrational  being ;  and  in  spite  of 
his  intellectual  and  scientific  progress,  J^Tature,  as 
desire  and  anger,  must  continue  to  exercise  great 
power  over  him ;  and — Do  you  know,  kdies  and 
gentlemen,  when  you  will  bring  mankii.d  to  the 
point  of  settling  its  disputes  by  pacific  convocation  ? 
On  the  day  when  you  shall  have  arranged  tliat  it 
shall  only  propagate  itself  by  intellectual  converse. 

75. 

If  in  former  times  the  chief  cause  of  war  was 
the  desire  of  the  various  nations  and  their  rulers  to 
subjugate   and  plunder  other  nations,  and   at  the 


What  is  Our  Rule  of  L/ie?  77 

same  time  to  extend  their  own  power  beyond  its 
natural  frontiers,  at  the  present  time,  on  the  other 
hand — if  we  exckide  the  wars  of  European  nations 
on  other  continents — the  most  frequent  cause  of 
war  is  the  wish  of  nations  to  regaiu  their  natural 
and  national  frontiers,  i.e.,  either  to  cast  down  the 
limits  where  a  people  speaking  the  same  language 
is  divided  into  different  states,  or  to  win  back  those 
portions  of  the  race,  speaking  the  same  language, 
which  have  been  incorporated  with  their  state  by 
nations  of  a  different  stock.  This  is  the  so-called 
principle  of  nationality,  which  began  to  play  an 
important  part  in-the  present  century.  It  began  as 
a  reaction  against  the  ambitious  schemes  of  the 
first  Napoleon.  Within  the  last  twenty  years  it 
had  transformed  both  Italy,  under  the  vacillating 
protection  of  the  third  ^Napoleon,  and  Germany  in 
the  war  with  him. 

Now,  if  we  in  Germany  have  made  this  principle 
thoroughly  welcome,  and  appropriated  it,  without, 
however,  being  minded  to  carry  it  out  to  the  utter- 
most;  and  if  now — satisfied  with  having  given 
that  extension  to  our  body  politic  which  not  only 
makes  it  a  living  organism,  but  gives  it  strength 
to  repel  aggression — we  do  not  dream  of  enforcing 


78  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New. 

tlie  restitution  of  the  German-speaking  portions  of 
Switzerland,  or  the  Baltic  provinces  of  Russia,  or 
even  the  German  provinces  ot  Austria :  it  indicates 
that  there  is  now  growing  up  around  us — and  more- 
over, in  close  connection  with  those  erroneous  preach- 
ings of  peace — a  certain  doctrine  which  declares  itself 
opposed  to  the  principle  of  nationality,  and  has  more 
care  for  the  establishment  of  some  particular  form  of 
political  and  social  organization  than  for  national 
unity.  It  would  have  the  large  consolidated  states 
resolve  themselves  into  groups  of  small  confederated 
republics,  organized  on  the  socialistic  principle,  be- 
tween which,  thenceforth,  differences  of  language 
and  nationality  could  no  longer  act  as  barriers,  or 
prove  the  causes  of  strife. " 

This  calls  itself,  indeed,  cosmopolitanism,  and  gives 
itself  airs,  as  being  a  progress  from  the  confined  na- 
tional standpoint  to  the  universal  standpoint  of  hu- 
manity. But  we  know,  that  in  every  appeal,  the 
sequence  of  procedure  must  be  observed.  ITow  the 
mean  tribunal  between  the  individual  and  humanity 
is  the  nation.  He  who  ignores  his  nation  does  not 
thereby  become  a  cosmopolitan,  but  continues  an  ego- 
tist. Patriotism  is  the  sole  ascent  to  humanitarian- 
ism.  The  nation^,  swith  their  peculiarities,  are  the 
divinely-ordained — that  is  to  siy,  the  natural  forms 


What  is  Our  Rule  of  Life  ?  79 

throiigli  which  mankind  manifests  itself,  which  no 
man  of  sense  may  overlook,  from  which  no  man  of 
courage  may  withdraw  himself.  Among  the  ills 
which  the  people  of  the  United  States  are  suffering 
from,  one  of  the  deepest  is  the  want  of  national  char- 
acter. Our  European  nations  consist  also  of  mixed 
races:  Celtic,  Teutonic,  Latin,  and  Sclavonian  ele- 
ments, have  at  various  times  been  heaped  up  one 
above  the  other,  and  have  become  strangely  blended 
in  Germany  and  France  and  England.  But  they 
have  ended  by  assimilating  and  crystallizing  (except- 
ing certain  frontier  lines)  into  a  new  formation — that 
of  the  present  nationality  of  those  peoples.  But  in 
the  United  States  the  cauldron  continues  to  bubble 
and  ferment,  in  consequence  of  the  perpetual  addi- 
tion of  new  ingredients  ;  the  mixture  remains  a  mix- 
ture, and  cannot  combine  into  a  living  whole.  The 
interest  in  a  common  state  cannot  replace  the 
national  interest;  as  sufficiently  proved  by  facts, 
it  is  impotent  to  exalt  individuals  above  the  nar- 
row sphere  of  their  egotism  and  their  huny  to  be 
rich,  to  the  height  of  ideal  aspirations;  without 
patriotism,  there  simply  can  be  no  deep  feeling. 

We  Ifave  not  forgotten  that  the  national  limits 
at  times  grew  too  narrow  also  for  our  own  great 
spirits  of  the  last  century,  a  Lessing,  Goethe,  Schiller. 


8o  The  Old  Faith  and  the  Ncw.^ 

Thej  felt  themselves  to  be  citizens  of  the  world,  not 
of  the  German  Empire,  much  less  still  Saxons  or 
Suabians  ;  nor  did  it  suffice  them  to  meditate  and 
create  in  the  spirit  of  one  nation.  Klopstock,  with 
his  enthusiasm  for  German  nationality  and  lan- 
guage, almost  appeared  eccentric.  Schiller,  never- 
theless, knew  and  expressed  with  the  whole  force 
of  his  sterling  judgment,  that  the  individual  must 
''  attach  himself  closely  to  his  own  native  land," 
because  here  only  lay  "  the  strong  roots  of  his  en- 
ergy ;  and  there  are  abundant  utterances  of  the  two 
other  great  men  also,  which  sufficiently  prove  that 
cosmopolitanism  did  not  with  them  exclude  patri- 
otism. Xow  let  us  examine  in  what  did  their  cos- 
mopolitanism consist.  They  embraced  the  whole 
of  humanity  in  their  sympathy,  they  longed  to  be- 
liold  their  ideas  of  ethical  beauty  and  national  free- 
dom gradually  realized  among  all  nations.  What, 
however,  is  the  desire  of  our  present  preachers  of 
national  fraternity — the  International  ?  They  desire, 
above  everything,  the  equal  distribution  of  the 
rnaterial  conditions  of  human  existence,  the  means 
of  hfe  and  enjoyment ;  the  intellectual  only  occupies 
a  secondary  rank,  and  is  chiefly  esteemed  as  the 
means  of  procuring  those  enjoyments ;  and  the 
effort  at   equalization   is   made   at   a   sorry   mean, 


What  is  Our  Rule  of  Life?  8 1 

in  comparison  witii  which  higher  things  are  re- 
garded with  indifference,  if  not  with  distrust,  l^o ; 
this  sort  of  cosmopolitans  must  not  appeal  to  Goethe 
and  Schiller. 

The  people  they  really  go  along  with, — the  fact 
has  long  been  patent  to  all  eyes,  let  them  be  inhabi- 
tants of  Germany  or  Italy,  England  or  America, 
— are  those  whose  real  home  is  the  Vatican.  These 
have  no  wish  for  a  national  state,  because  it  limits 
their  universal  hierarchy ;  just  as  those  others  have 
no  wish  for  it,  because  it  interferes  with  their  indi- 
vidual state — the  separation  of  mankind  into  feebly 
organized  and  loosely  connected  federal  republics. 
Just  as  the  Ultramontane  party  only  prepares 
man's  intellectual  subjection,  although  not  unfre- 
quently  in  the  guise  of  invoking  political  rights, 
even  so  the  hioher  intellectual  interests  are  endan- 
gered  by  the  Internationals,  through  the  supreme 
position  they  allot  to  the  individual,  and  his  material 
wants  and  requirements.  Only  in  its  natural  division 
into  nations  may  mankind  approach  the  goal  of  its 
destiny ;  he  who  despises  this  division,  who  has  no 
reverence  for  what  is  national,  we  may  fairly  point 
to  as  Uic  niger  est,  whether  he  wear  the  black  cowl 
or  the  red  cap. 

VOL.  II.  a 


S2  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New. 

76. 

As  regards  the  various  forms  of  government, 
we  may  consider  the  prevailing  opinion  with  us 
in  Germany  to  be,  that  although  a  republican  form 
of  government  is  the  best  in  itself,  yet  con 
sideriiig  the  actual  circumstances  and  conditions  of 
the  European  powers,  the  time  for  it  has  not  yet 
come,  and  therefore,  monarchy,  made  as  little 
objectionable  as  possible,  is  to  be  tolerated  for 
the  present,  and  for  a  period  as  yet  indeterminate. 
This  shows  at  least  a  progress  of  insight,  in  com- 
parison with  twenty-four  years  ago  :  a  numerous 
party  among  us  then  considering  monarchy  as  a 
stage  left  definitively  behind  us,  the  republic  as  the 
ofoal  for  which  we  miojht  steer  forthwith. 

The  question,  however,  Wliat  is  in  itself  the  best 
form  of  government  ?  is  always  a  question  wrongly 
put.  It  is  equivalent  to  asking.  What  is  the  best 
kind  of  clothing  ? — a  question  which  cannot  be 
answered  without,  on  the  one  hand,  taking  the 
climate  and  season  into  account,  and  again,  the  age, 
sex,  and  state  of  health  of  the  individual.  There 
cannot  be  an  absolutely  best  form  of  government, 
because  government  is  something  essentially  rela- 
tive.    The  republic  may  be  excellently  suited  for 


Whai  is  Our  Rule  of  Life  ?  ^^ 

the  United  States,  in  the  boundless  area  of  North 
America,  threatened  by  no  neighbour,  only,  perhaps, 
by  the  internal  conflict  of  parties;  it  may  also 
suit  Switzerland,  shielded  by  its  mountains,  whose 
neutrality,  besides,  is  guaranteed  by  the  interest  of 
the  neighbouring  states ;  and  yet  it  might  never- 
theless prove  pernicious  to  Germany,  hemmed  in 
by  grasping  Russia  and  restless  France,  now  also 
broodins:  over  her  reveno^e. 

But  if  the  question  be  only  to  ascertain  which  of 
the  diff'erent  kinds  of  government  conforms  most  to 
the  dignity^  or  (to  express  it  less  pretentiously) 
to  the  nature  and  destination  of  man,  even  then 
it  does  not  follow  that  the  question  must  neces- 
sarily be  decided  in  favour  of  republicanism. 
History  and  experience  have  not  taught  us,  hitherto, 
that  mankind  has  been  helped  on  its  way  (and 
that  surely  can  only  mean  that  the  harmonious 
development  of  its  parts  and  capacities  be  pro- 
moted), or  has  more  securely  progressed  towards  it 
in  republics  than  monarchies.  That  the  republican 
institutions  of  antiquity  count  for  nothing  in  this 
enquiry,  is  generally  acknowledged,  inasmuch  as,  by 
reason  of  the  slavery  which  formed  an  integral  part 
of  their  systems,  they  were,  in  fact,  oligarchies 
of  the  most  exclusive  description.     In  the  middle 


84  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New, 

age,  the  republic  is  to  be  met  witli  only  in  the 
smaller  communes,  chiefly  towns  and  municipal 
domains ;  and  here  again,  even  if  without  actual 
slavery,  usually  accompanied  by  highly  aristocratic 
institutions.  In  modern  times,  the  republic  appears 
sometimes  transiently,  especially  in  France,  as  an 
episode  of  violent  political  crisis;  as  an  abiding 
institution,  on  the  gTandest  scale  in  North  America, 
on  a  smaller  one  in  Switzerland. 

It  is  true  that  these  two  republics,  the  only  ones 
that  are  firmly  established,  apparently  possess  cer- 
tain advantages  in  common, — one  especially,  which 
has  secured  to  this  form  of  government  the  favour  of 
the  multitude :  the  generally  satisfactory  condition 
of  the  finances,  notwithstanding  the  light  taxation 
of  the  citizen.  Next,  that  there  is  not  only  a  passive, 
relation  of  the  citizen  to  the  Government,  but  an 
active  one  distinctly  defined.  With  this  is  connect- 
ed the  generally  freer  scope  permitted  to  the  indi 
vidnal  for  the  development  of  his  energies  and  his 
preferences.  But  this  has  at  the  same  time  its  dark 
side,  as  it  leaves  open  every  avenue  for  political  agi- 
tation, keeping  the  state  in  a  perpetual  ferment,  and 
placing  it  on  an  inclined  plane,  down  which  it  must 
almost  inevitably  slide  into  ochlocracy,  assuredly  the 
worst  of  all  forms  of  governmeut. 


What  is  Our  Rule  of  Life  ?  S^ 

But  while  we  do  not  despair  of  the  possibility  of 
introducing  into  monarchy  the   citizen's  participa- 
tion in  government,  combined  with  greater  liberty 
of  action,  so  far  as  is  conformable  with  the  con- 
sistency of  the  State,  we  miss,  on  the  other  hand, 
in  the  above-mentioned  republics,  that  flourishing 
condition  of  the  higher  intellectual  interests  which 
we    find     in   Germany  and,  in    some  respects,  in 
England.     Not   as  though  there  were  any  lack  of 
superior  as  well  as  inferior  schools,  and  in  part,  well- 
organized  and  appointed  ones  too.     But  we  miss  all 
higher  results.     In  Switzerland  the  leading  cantons 
are  German;  in  North  America  the  dominant  element, 
after  the   English,  is  also   the   German ;    and   yet 
science   and   art   in  Switzerland   and   the    United 
States  are  far  from  having  put  forth  those  native 
blossoms  which  they  show  in  Germany  and  England. 
Switzerland  possesses  no  classical  literature  of  its 
own,  but  borrows  it  from  us;  as  the  professors  at  its 
high  schools  are^ still  for  the  most  part  Germans,  or 
at   least,  men   educated   in   Germany.      American 
literature  occupies  a  similar  position  towards  Eno-. 
land ;  and  where  this  is  not  the  case,  we  see  the 
science  as  well  as  education  of   America  entirely 
based  on  the  exact  and   practical,  on  utility  and 
serviceableness.     In  a  word,  we  Germans  are  struck 


86  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New. 

by  something  plebeian,  something  coarsely-realistic 
and  soberly-prosaic,  in  the  culture  of  these  republics ; 
transplanted  to  this  soil,  we  miss  that  most  subtle 
spiritual  atmosphere  we  breathed  at  home ;  besides 
which,  the  air  of  the  United  States  is  infected  by  a 
corruption  of  its  leading  classes,  only  to  be  paral- 
leled in  the  most  abandoned  parts  of  Europe.  But 
as  these  faults,  besides  arising  from  the  want  of 
national  feeling,  appear  to  us  to  stand  intimately 
related  to  the  essence  of  the  republican  form  of 
government,  we  are  far  from  unhesitatingly  award- 
ing to  it  the  preference  over  the  monarchical  form. 

77. 
This  much  is  certain  :  the  institutions  even  of  an 
extensive  republic  are  simpler,  more  comprehensible, 
than  those  of  a  well-organized  monarchy.  The 
Swiss  constitution,  not  to  mention  that  of  the  dif- 
ferent cantons,  is,  as  compared  with  that  of  England, 
as  a  windmill  to  a  steam- enmne,  as  a  waltz- tune  or 
a  song  to  a  fugue  or  a  symphony.  There  is  some- 
thing enigmatic,  nay,  seemingly  absurd,  in  monarchy; 
but  just  in  this  consists  the  mystery  of  its  supe- 
riority. Every  mystery  appears  absurd;  and  yet 
nothing  profound,  whether  in  life,  in  the  arts,  or  in 
the  state,  is  devoid  of  mystery. 


What  is  Our  Rule  of  Life  ^  87 

That  an  individual  should,  by  the  blind  chance 
of  birth,  be  raised  above  all  his  fellows,  and  become 
the  determining  influence  in  the  destiny  of  millioas 
— that  he,  in  spite  of  a  possibly  very  narrow  intellect, 
a  perverse  character,  should  be  the  ruler,  while  so 
many  better  and  wiser  men  are  called  his  subjects 
— that  his  family,  his  children,  should  rank  far  above 
all  others, — but  little  intelligence  is  required  to 
find  this  absurd,  revolting,  incompatible  with  the 
original  equality  of  all.  Such  phrases  have,  in 
consequence,  always  formed  the  chosen  arena  of 
democratic  platitudes.  More  patience,  more  self- 
abnegation,  deeper  penetration,  and  keener  insight, 
are  requisite  to  perceive  how  it  is  this  very  eleva- 
tion of  an  individual  and  his  family,  an  elevation 
which  places  him  beyond  the  reach  of  interested 
party  conflicts,  beyond  all  impeachment  of  his  title, 
and  exempts  him  from  mutability,  except  the  natural 
mutation  of  death — in  which  case  he  is  replaced, 
without  choice  and  conflict,  by  his  successor,  who  has 
also  been  naturally  called  to  his  position — it  may, 
I  repeat,  be  less  apparent  how  in  this  consists  the 
strength,  the  blessing,  the  incomparable  advantage 
of  monarchy.  And  yet  it  is  only  this  institution 
which  can  preserve  the  State  from  those  commotions 
and    corruptions  which  are    inseparable    from    the 


88  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New, 

changes  recurring  every  few  years  on  the  election 
of  the  Government.  The  practice  of  the  United 
States,  especially,  in  their  presidential  elections, 
the  inevitable  corruption  following  in  their  wake, 
the  necessity  of  rewarding  the  accomplices  by 
giving  them  places,  and  then  of  winking  at  the 
delinquencies  of  their  administration,  the  venality 
and  corruption  which  are  thus  engendered  in  the 
ruling  circles, — all  tliese  deep-lying  evils  of  the 
much-vaunted  republic,  have  been  brought  into  such 
glaring  prominence  within  the  last  few  years,  that 
the  eagerness  of  German  orators,  newspaper- writers, 
and  poets,  to  go  in  search  of  their  political  and 
even  moral  ideals  to  the  other  side  of  the  Atlantic 
Ocean,  has  suffered  considerable  abatement. 

Neither  can  we  altogether  approve  of  looking  for 
these  ideals  on  the  other  side  of  the  Channel ;  but 
at  all  events  we  can  learn  more  and  better  things 
from  Englishmen  than  from  Americans,  especially  a 
juster  appreciation  of  what  a  nation  possesses  in  an 
hereditary  monarchy  and  dynasty.  It  was  possible, 
during  these  latter  years,  to  experience  alarm  and 
disquiet  about  the  political  soundness  of  England, 
on  account  of  the  republican  agitation  which  had 
sprung  up  there ;  for  no  one  with  a  grain  of  sense 
can  fail  to  perceive   that    the   republic   would  be 


What  is  Our  Rule  of  Life?  89 

the  finis  Britannice.     But   behold,  the  Prince  of 
Wales  falls  dangerously  ill;  and  although  the  nation 
objected  to  much  in  the  heir-apparent's  character 
and  mode  of  life,  the   general  interest,  neverthe- 
less, rises   to   such   a  pitch,   that    the   republican 
agitators  themselves  are  moved  to  frame  an  address 
of  condolonce  to  the  Queen.     What  a  proof  this  of 
the  sound  political  instinct  of  the  nation  !     How 
much  cause  is  there  here  of  envy  to  the  French, 
who  have  uprooted  their  dynasty  with  irreverent 
precipitation,   and    now,    between    despotism   and 
anarchy,  can  neither  live  nor  die !    And  how  greatly 
may  we  Germans  congratulate  ourselves  that,  in  con- 
sequence of  the  deeds  and  events  of  the  last  years, 
the  Hohenzollern  dynasty  has  taken  root  deeply  and 
ineradically,  far  beyond  the  Prussian  limits,  in  all 
German  lands  and  all  German  hearts ! 

That  monarchy  must  surround  itself  with  repub- 
lican institutions,  is  one  of  those  French  phrases 
which  are  exploded,  it  is  to  be  hoped ;  to  raise  on 
high  the  banner  of  parliamentary  government  is  also 
still  to  look  towards  a  foreign  ideal.  It  israther  to 
the  character  of  the  German  nation,  and  the  condi- 
tion of  the  German  Empire,  that  we  must  look,  with 
the  co-operation  of  the  Government  and  the  nation, 
for  the  development  of  such  institutions  as  shall  be 


90  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New, 

best  fitted  to  combine  streno'th  of  cohesion  with 
liberty  of  movement,  intellectual  and  moral  with 
material  prosperity. 

78. 

I  am  a  simple  citizen,  and  am  proud  of  it.  The 
middle  class,  however  much  people  may  talk  and 
sneer  on  both  sides,  must  always  remain  the  kernel 
of  the  nation,  the  focus  of  its  morality — not  only 
the  producer  of  its  wealth,  but  also  the  fosterer  of 
its  arts  and  sciences.  The  citizen  who  fancies 
himself  honoured  by  the  pursuit,  or  still  worse,  the 
purchase,  of  a  patent  of  nobility,  degrades  himself 
in  my  eyes ;  and  even  if  a  man  of  merit  gratefully 
accepts  a  proffered  elevation  to  the  peerage  as  a 
reward  for  his  services,  I  shrug  my  shoulders  at 
this  display  of  a  pitiable  weakness. 

At  the  same  time,  I  am  far  from  being  an  enemy  of 
the  aristocracy,  or  from  desiring  its  abolition.  The 
sincere  supporter  of  monarchy  must  refrain  from  this. 
We  have  repeatedly  seen  in  France  how  little  is 
the  significance  of  a  throne  amidst  a  society  that  has 
been  reduced  to  a  common  level.  On  the  other 
hand,  we  may  see  in  England  even  now  what 
valuable  services  a  real  aristocracy  may  render, 
both  as  the  champion  of  national  rights  and  the 


What  is  Our  Rule  of  Life?  91 

support  of  the  sovereign's  legal  authority.  Au 
able  aristocracy  is  an  indispensable  member  of  a 
constitutional  monarchy,  and  there  can  be  no  ques- 
tion of  abolishing  it,  but  only  of  assigning  it  its  due 
position.  This,  in  the  first  place,  is  bassd  on  ample 
territorial  possessions ;  and  the  legislation  must 
allow  the  nobility — as  also,  of  course,  the  opulent 
middle  clas3 — to  maintain  this  property  undivided, 
within  certain  limits.  The  constitution  must  also 
grant  it  an  influence  in  proportion  to  that  exercised 
by  industry  and  intelligence  on  the  largest  scale;  and 
if  the  members  of  the  Prussian  Upper  House  have 
not  hitherto,  by  any  means,  used  their  influence  for 
the  advantage  of  the  State,  the  fault  consists  in  the 
as  yet  insufiicient  admixture  of  the  representatives 
of  industry  and  intelligence  with  the  aristocratic 
element  in  that  body.  That  the  cadets  of  the 
aristocracy,  however,  should  have  an  almost  exclu- 
sive privilege  of  occupying  the  higher  positions  in 
the  military,  the  diplomatic,  and  even  the  civil 
services,  has  hitherto,  especially  in  Prussia,  excited 
our  disapprobation.  We  demand,  in  this  respect, 
a  thoroughly  free  competition,  and  this,  moreover, 
as  much  in  the  interest  of  the  State  as  the  rialit 
of  the  entire  body  of  citizens.  We  must  not  1  0 
deterred  from  our  desire  by  the  fact  of  memborj 


92  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New, 

of  the  aristocracy  having,  in  these  last  years,  so 
admirably  administered  the  affairs  of  Germa.iy, 
both  in  the  cabinet  and  in  the  field — thus  earning 
the  lasting  gratitude  of  the  nation.  No  doubt  that 
simple  citizens  might  have  done  the  like,  if  they 
had  had  the  opportunity.  Talents  arise  in  all 
classes,  and  develop  themselves,  if  a  career  is  open 
to  them.  Canning  was  the  son  of  a  wine-mer- 
chant, Sir  Robert  Peel  of  a  cotton  manufacturer. 
Nelson  of  a  clergyman ;  and  with  us  Germans, 
Scharnhorst  was  the  son  of  a  mere  citizen;  old 
Derfflinger,  even  if  not  himself  a  tailor,  was  yet 
a  peasant's  son.  On  the  other  hand,  how  much 
might  be  told  of  incapable  generals,  and  blundering 
diplomatists,  solely  owing  their  command  or  port- 
folio to  the  accident  of  their  birth  !  As  early  as  the 
year  1807,  Prussian  law  granted  every  nobleman 
the  right  of  exercising  a  trade  without  prejudice  to 
his  rank — an  effort  to  cure  the  prejudices  of  the 
German  nobility  by  English  policy,  which  was  only 
too  soon  abandoned  again. 

But  in  the  main  it  is  not  by  these  remains  of  aris- 
tocratic privilege,  neither  is  it  by  the  pressure  of 
the  fourth  class  from  below,  by  which  at  this 
moment  the  middle  class  is  endangered.  It  is 
rather  a  crisis  within  its  own  precincts — the  con- 


What  is  Our  Rule  of  Life  1  93 

sequence  of  the  altered  conditions  of  industry  and 
life  in  our  time.  We  had  always,  hitherto,  till 
within  the  middle  of  the  present  century,  con- 
sidered the  middle  class  as  being  based  on  a  tardy, 
but  safe  mode  of  acquisition  on  the  one  hand,  and 
on  the  other,  on  simplicity  and  economy  of  life. 
The  workman,  the  tradesman,  as  well  as  the  func- 
tionary or  scholar,  did  not  grudge  unremitting  toil 
for  a  very  moderate  remuneration,  contented  if, 
after  several  decades  of  industry  and  economy,  they 
had  been  able  to  educate  and  provide  for  their 
children,  and  perhaps  also  to  lay  by  something  which 
they  might  inherit  at  their  parents'  death.  These 
worthy  old-fashioned  ways  have  long  ceased,  how- 
ever, to  correspond  to  the  needs  or  wishes  of  the 
present  generation.  The  expectations  of  many 
members  of  the  middle  class  have  been  unwhole- 
somely  stimulated  by  the  examples  of  the  astonish- 
ingly rapid  and  almost  spontaneous  accession  of 
wealth,  by  means  of  what  is  called  speculation,  and 
of  the  luxury  which  has  followed  in  its  train. 
But  even  simple  middle-class  people  find  their  old 
modes  of  acquisition,  even  Vvdth  the  utmost  economy, 
less  and  less  sufficient  for  their  wants.  The  artizan 
finds  that  his  handicraft  scarcely  supports  him  ;  on 
which  account  some  masters  are  driven  to  become 


94  ^^^  Old  Faith  and  the  New, 

manufacturers  on  a  large  scale,  while  others  are 
depressed  to  the  level  of  the  operative.  The  mer- 
chant who  finds  his  business  not  sufficiently  lucra- 
tive, and  the  man  of  independent  means  in  the  same 
predicament,  try  their  luck  by  speculating  in  the 
fund*  The  functionary  of  State  is  the  worst  off  of 
all,  as,  in  spite  of  all  additions,  his  pay  suffices  less 
and  less  for  the  respectable  maintenance  of  his 
family.  In  this  direction  a  thorough  reformation 
on  the  part  of  the  Government  is  greatly  needed,  as 
its  well-being  is  seriously  endangered,  along  with 
the  integrity  of  its  functionaries ;  while  the  latter, 
on  the  other  hand,  should  make  it  their  own  duty  and 
that  of  their  farailios  to  observe  a  dignified  simplicity, 
and  abstain  from  all  fashionable  frivolities.  It  is 
neither  desirable  nor  even  practicable  to  make 
head  against  the  tide  of  the  times ;  everybody 
ought  to  take  them  into  account,  and  endeavour  to 
do  them  justice  ;  but  we  ought  not  to  let  ourselves 
be  carried  away  by  the  stream,  nor  to  lose  the 
firm  ground  of  the  principles  which  have  hitherto 
offered  us  a  secure  footing.  Preaching  against 
luxury  has  ever  been  a  barren  task ;  but  Hannibal 
now  stands  at  our  gates,  in  the  form  of  a  fourth 
class,  which,  having  long  been  only  a  portion  of  the 
third,  has  now  begun  to  constitute  itself  independ- 


What  is  Our  Rule  of  Life  ?  95 

ent,  and  seems  disposed  to  violently  shatter  the  third, 
together  with  the  entire  existing  organization  of  the 
State  and  of  society. 

79. 
It  is  disagreeable,  although  unavoidable,  at  this 
point,  to  speak  of  the  so-called  fourth  class,  because 
in  so  doing  we  touch  on  the  sorest  spot  of  modern 
society.  And,  as  is  well  known,  every  wound  or 
disease  is  the  more  difficult  of  right  treatment  the 
more  it  has  been  aggravated  by  a  wrong  one.  Nor 
will  it  be  disputed  that  what  we  call  the  labour 
question  stands  in  this  predicament.  The  state  of 
the  case  of  itself  would  no  doubt  admit  of  remedy, 
if  the  patient  would  but  suffer  himself  to  be  cured, 
or  even  try  to  effect  the  cure  himself  in  the  right 
way.  But  quacks,  and  pre-eminently  French  quacks, 
have  completely  turned  his  head.  One  would  have 
thought  that  the  socialistic  boil  which  has  been 
gathering  within  these  last  decades  in  France  had 
thoroughly  discharged  itself  in  the  horrors  of  the 
Paris  Commune- — had  clearly  enough,  in  the  flames  of 
the  Hotel  de  Yille  and  the  Louvre,  shown  society  of 
all  countries  whither  certain  principles  will  lead  us ; 
the  partizans  of  these  views  in  Germany  especially 
must  be,  one  would  have  thought,  partly  abashed, 


96  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New. 

partly  discouraged.  E"othing  of  the  sort !  In  meet- 
ings, in  newspapers,  in  our  very  parliament,  people 
dare  to  approve,  nay,  to  praise,  what  is  abhorrent  to 
the  common  sense  of  every  man  and  citizen — thus 
manifesting  what  they  themselves  might  be  capable 
of  under  certain  circumstances.  At  the  same  time, 
they  express  the  most  utter  hatred,  not  only  against 
the  institution  of  property,  but  even  against  art  and 
science,  as  being  the  luxurious  appliances  of  prop- 
erty. These  are  the  Huns  and  Yandals  of  modern 
civilization,  much  more  dangerous  than  the  ancient, 
as  they  do  not  come  upon  us  from  without,  but 
stand  in  our  very  midst. 

Let  us  acknowledge  before  all  things,  however, 
that  the  other  side  may  be  accused  of  many  errors, 
many  sins,  especially  of  omission  ;  human  strength 
has  been  made  an  instrument  of  reckless  gain ; 
neither  has  any  proper  care  been  taken  for  the  work- 
man's physical  or  moral  welfare.  But  worthy  men 
have  arisen  to  instruct  the  workman  to  peacefully 
help  himself;  well-meaning  masters  have  displayed 
their  good-will  by  giving  them  houses,  by  the  estab- 
lishment of  dining-rooms,  and  by  the  promotion 
amongst  them  of  the  sick  and  burial  clubs  ;  in  centres 
of  industry,  besides,  we  may  now  see  the_ formation 


What  is  Our  Rule  of  Life  f  97 

of  benevolent  societies  whicli  make  the  building  of 
dwellings  for  workmen  their  esjjecial  task.  But  the 
true  prophets  have  been  confronted  by  false  ones ; 
and,  as  will  happen,  these  latter  have  found  the  great- 
est following  among  the  mass.  Party  Avateh words, 
such  as  that  of  the  war  of  capital  and  labour,  satirical 
invectives  against  the  detested  hourgeoistG^  2^'s>  if  it 
.were  a  strictly  enclosed  class,  instead  of  the  access  to  it 
being  free  at  any  time  to  the  intelligent  and  indus- 
trious workman,  are  so  easily  repeateo.  and  so  i*arely 
subjected  to  any  accurate  examination.  A  foreign 
society,  which  proposes  nothing  less  to  itself  than 
the  subversion  of  all  our  existing  social  conditions, 
spins  its  threads  through  every  country,  stirs  up  our 
artizans,  and  transforms  their  societies,  originally 
formed  for  mutual  succour,  into  arsenals  of  resistance 
to  the  masters.  The  strikes  perpetually  breakino- 
out,  here,  there,  and  everywhere,  more  especially  in 
the  capital  of  the  new  German  Empire,  are  a  piece 
of  anarchy  in  the  midst  of  the  state,  of  war  in  times 
of  peace,  of  conspiracy  carried  out  undisguisedly 
in  broad  day,  the  toleration  of  whose  existence 
does  not  redound  to  the  credit  of  the  Government 
and  the  legislature,  wdio  look  on  in  helpless  inactiv- 
ity. 

It  is  true   one  may   say  to  the   masters:   It  is 


98  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New. 

in  your  power  to  help  yourselves.  Form  your- 
selves into  leagues  as  compact  as  those  of  the  work- 
men, oppose  to  their  refusal  to  work  for  you  at 
your  prices  the  refusal  to  let  them  work  for  you  at 
their  prices,  and  if  necessary  send  to  foreign  countries 
for  workmen,  and  then  let  the  refractory  see  who 
will  be  able  to  hold  out  longest.  But,  other  consider- 
ations apart,  while  these  deluded  fanatical  masses. 
are  being  reduced  to  reason,  the  welfare  of  nearly 
every  circle  of  society  is  perceptibly  injured,  and  not 
rarely  the  prosperity  of  whole  cities  and  districts 
destroyed.  The  sudden  and  still  increasing  rise  in 
the  prices  of  all  the  necessaries  of  life,  beginning 
with  house-rent,  is  chiefly  caused  by  the  exorbitant 
demands  of  tlie  men  upon  their  masters.  One 
would  think  that  it  must  be  perceived  by  the  men 
that  they  are  making  life  more  expensive  for  them- 
selves as  well ;  but  these  people  do  not  look  beyond 
their  immediate  purpose  :  the  minimum  of  work  for 
the  maximum  of  wages !  And  every  concession 
raises  their  demands.  They  first  agitated  in 
England  for  ten  hours'  labour,  then  for  nine  hours' ; 
and  now  that  this  has  been  carried  in  several 
branches  of  trade,  they  already  clamour  for  only 
eight :  it  may  be  imagined  how  this  will  go  on  if  the 
demand  is  not  stopped  in  time.    Just  now,  too,  when 


What  is  Our  Rule  of  Life?  99 

in  order  to  come  up  to  the  increased  requirements 
of  the  times,  the  hours  have  had  to  be  lengthened  in 
the  counting-house,  the  bureau,  and  the  study ! 
What  may  be  the  prospects  of  boards  of  arbitration, 
consisting  of  members  of  both  parties,  formed  to  set- 
tle disputed  points,  and  agree  upon  what  is  equitable, 
maj  easily  be  imagined  when  one  considers  the  mood 
of  one  of  the  parties. 

Surely  here  is  call  enough  upon  the  new  German 
Government,  to   fulfil   the   duties   of  its  position, 
and  provide   that   the   commonwealth    receive   no 
harm.     True,  it  may  be  said  in  its  excuse  that  it 
will  have   a   difiicult   time   of  it   in   view   of  ex- 
isting legislation.     There   has   been  far  too  much 
concession  already.     If  I  am  not  mistaken,  it  was 
Harkort,  the  veteran  liberal,  who  recently  reminded 
the  workmen  that  the  right  of  coalition  had  not 
been  conceded  them  witliout  many  misgivings ;  it 
behoved  them  to  take  care  that  there  should  be  no 
occasion  to  repent  of  it.     If  journeymen  and  fac- 
tory labourers  now  form  trades-unions  for  the  sake 
of  obtaining  more  satisfactor}^  wages  and  conditions 
of  work,  and  if  to  this  end  they  agree  to  suspend 
all  work  till  their  demands  shall  have  been  acceded 
to,  they  are  justified  therein  by  the  industrial  legis- 
lature of  the  North  German  League,  that  is,   of 


lOO  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New, 

the  German  Empire.  Under  the  exisl^ing  law, 
Government  is  only  entitled  to  interfere  in  case  of 
workmen  endeavouring  to  coerce  their  fellows  into 
joining  their  unions,  and  carrying  out  their  plans, 
Ly  threats  or  compulsion.  But  it  is  evilent  how 
odious  and  difficult  of  execution  must  be  the  police- 
man's part  Government  has  thus  taken  upon  itself. 
Whether  anything  can  be  done  by  indicting 
workmen  on  strike  for  fraudulent  breach  of  con- 
tract, as  recently  suggested,  remains  to  be  seen. 
The  influence  of  a  foreign  society,  with  notoriously 
revolutionary  intentions,  might  also  serve  for  a 
handle,  as  in  the  case  of  the  Jesuits.  But  I  know 
not  how  it  is  nobody  seems  inclined  toward  serious 
action.  Some,  and  they  unfortunately  are  the 
most  influential,  are  glad  of  a  fourtli  class  to  be 
displayed  as  a  scarecrow  to  the  third ;  o!  hers,  who 
make  a  great  to-do,  are  afraid  of  loshig  their 
popularity;  while  others,  again,  are  really  taken  in 
by  certain  magniloquent  phrases,  which  are  made 
use  of  by  the  in  great  part  very  equivocal  agents 
of  the  cause  of  labour.  Only  thus  much  I  am  con- 
vinced of,  that  if  Government  were  to  intervene 
here,  it  would  be  fulfilling  a  duty  not  only  to  the 
third  but  to  the  fouitli  class  also,  by  severing  its 
just   claims   from    all    connection   with    intentions 


What  is  Our  Rule  of  Life?  loi 

which,  by  whosoever  seriously  loves  civilization  and 
culture,  must  be  combated  to  the  death. 


80. 

For  at  the  back  of  the  labour  movement  are  those 
same  persons,  who  are  not  only  anxious,  as  we 
have  shown  in  a  preceding  disquisition,  to  abolish 
all  national  distinctions,  but  eager  to  subvert  the 
limits  of  property,  this  being  considered  by  them  as 
their  task  in  the  pretended  interests  of  progress. 
Private  property  is  to  be,  if  not  completely  annulled, 
yet  essentially  limited,  principally  by  means  of  the 
repeal  of  the  laws  of  inheritance. 

Hereditary  property,  however,  is  the  basis  of  the 
family  :  to  imperil  its  security  is  to  lay  the  axe 
at  the  root  of  the  family,  and  thereby  at  the 
root  of  society  and  the  state.  No  firm  national 
state  above,  no  family  securely  based  on  hereditary 
property  below :  what,  then,  remains  but  the 
shifting  sands  of  political  atoms,  of  sovereign  in- 
dividuals combining  themselves  at  pleasure  into 
little  communities  of  the  laxest  possible  cohesion? 
But  where,  then,  could  any  support,  any  staj^ 
be  found  ?  How  wildly  would  the  sands  whirl 
about  in  every  breath  of  air,  till  beaten  clown  or 
swept   away  by   torrents  from  above  that  should 


I02  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New, 

render  new  consistent  formations  once  more  pos- 
sible ? 

Property  is  an  indispensable  basis  of  morality, 
as  well  as  of  culture.  It  is  at  once  the  result  and 
the  spur  of  industry.  But  to  be  this  it  must  be 
hereditary,  or  else  the  acquisitive  impulse  would 
degenerate  into  mere  coarse  enjoyment.  The  pro- 
ducer would  prefer  as  a  rule,  to  squander  the  gains 
of  a  lifetime,  if  after  his  death  they  were  to  come 
into  the  possession  of  a  multitude  which  was 
indifferent  to  him.  And  that  very  inequality  in 
the  distribution  of  property  which  socialism  would 
exterminate,  is  something  quite  indispensable  to 
the  progress  of  mankind.  Without  wealth,  without 
superfluity,  neither  science  nor  art  could  exist, 
because  without  these,  their  development  would 
be  impracticable,  for  want  of  leisure,  and  their 
enjoyment  for  want  of  means. 

But  even  were  property  equalized,  the  levelling 
propensities  of  socialistic  democrats  would  still  be 
troubled  by  the  inequality  which  exists  iu  the 
power  of  work,  in  natural  endowment.  For  the 
equalization  of  the  first  very  pretty  attempts  have 
already  been  made  by  the  vaunted  English  trades- 
unions.  Although  one  person  be  capable  of  doin/- 
more  work  than  another,  and  is  also  inclined  to 


W/iat  is  Our  Rule  of  Li/e?  103 

do  so,  yet  he  is  not  allowed.  "You  are  strictly 
prohibited,"  say  the  laws  of  the  trades-union  ot 
bricklayers  at  Bradford,  with  reference  to  the 
hodmen,  "  from  exerting  yourselves  over  much,  and 
inciting  others  to  do  the  same,  in  order  to  win  a 
smile  from  the  masters."  In  the  same  manner  the 
statute  of  the  bricklayers  of  Manchester  decrees 
that  "  any  workman  who  is  too  quick,  and  cannot 
await  the  time  till  the  others  shall  have  done,"  is, 
on  repetition  of  the  offence,  to  be  punished  by 
increasing  fines. 

But  as  regards  natural  endowment,  the  theory 
may  be  remembered,  which  was  still  the  fashion 
a  few  years  ago — receiving  the  support,  moreover, 
of  writers  otherwise  respectable,  who  only  allowed 
themselves  to  be  too  much  carried  away  by  the 
muddy  current  of  public  opinion — that  mankind 
henceforth  would  no  longer,  as  heretofore,  be  guided 
by  a  few  eminent  men,  but  that,  as  talent  and  judg- 
ment become  more  and  more  the  common  property 
of  the  masses,  they  would  know  how  to  help  them- 
selves, and  further  their  own  interests.  It  had 
already  ceased  to  be  necessary  to  lift  the  hat  to  a 
rich  man,  and  the  authorities,  as  only  servants  ot 
the  sovereign  people  to  be  deposed  at  its  will, 
might  be   slighted   with   impunity;  all  that   was 


I04  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New, 

still  wantmg,  was  exemption  from  the  duty  of 
reverencino:  orreatness.  Then  should  ,  we  have 
achieved  the  universal  fraternity  of  the  shirt-sleeve, 
and  happily  attained  to  the  goal,  the  summit  of 
But  the  events  of  recent  years  have  sadly 
marred  this  democratic  calculation.  After  the 
apparent  temporary  extinction  of  Goethes  and  Hum- 
boldts, the  Bismarks  and  Moltkes  have  made  their 
appearance,  and  their  greatness  is  the  less  open 
to  controversy,  as  it  manifests  itself  in  the  dom*ain 
of  tangible  external  facts.  No  help  for  it,  there- 
fore, even  the  most  stiff-necked  and  obdurate  of 
these  fellows  must  condescend  to  look  up  a  little, 
if  only  to  get  a  sight,  be  it  no  farther  than  the 
knees,  of  those  august  figures.  Xo:  history  will 
continue  a  thorough  aristocrat,  althougli  with  con- 
victions friendly  to  the  people;  the  masses,  ever 
widening  in  culture  and  instruction,  will  continue  to 
push  and  press  on,  or  to  support  and  give  emphasis 
to  ideas,  thus,  up  to  a  certain  point,  aiding  progress ; 
but  to  lead  and  guide  will  always  remain  the  prerog- 
ative of  a  few  superior  spirits  ;  the  Hegelian  aphorism 
that  "  at  the  head  of  deeds  which  mould  tlie  world's 
history  there  stand  individuals  as  the  realizing  sub- 
jectivities of  the  substantial,  "will  remain  true  ;  and, 


V//iat  IS  Our  Rule  of  Life  ?  105 

too,  in  the  domain  of  art  and  science,  there  will  never 
be  a  dearth  of  kings  whose  monnmental  plans  will 
find  emplojrrient  for  a  multitude  of  cartmen. 


81. 

What  the  Roman  poet  sajs  of  Homer  :  "  qid  nil 
molitur  inejpte^'  raay,  in  a  political  sense,  be  applied 
to  the  English.  Their  tact  in  practical  affairs, 
their  historical  instinct,  preserving  them  from 
over  haste  and  leaps  in  the  dark,  deserve  our 
admiration,  and  still  more  our  emulation.  The 
French  are  fascinated  by  phrases,  and  we  Germans 
allow  the  ideal,  the  abstraction  which  has  been 
moulded  out  of  air  instead  of  reality,  to  exercise 
over  us  an  influence  far  too  potent,  and  indeed, 
perilous.  A  Bill  for  the  abolition  of  capital  punish- 
ment has  just  now  been  once  more  thrown  out  of 
the  House  of  Commons,  by  a  majority  of  167  votes 
against  54 ;  in  the  German  Parliament  propositions 
of  this  kind  have  already  more  than  once  had  the 
support  of  imposing  majorities  approximating  to 
unanimity.  The  property-qualifications  entitling 
to  the  franchise  are  from  time  to  time  reduced  in 
England,  but  no  statesman  there  ever  dreams  of 
abolishing  them  altogether. 


io6  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New. 

A  great  statesman,  however,  has  abolished  all 
such  in  Germany ;  but  I  must  be  allowed  to  doubt 
whether  the  introduction  of  manhood  sufFrao-e  will 
be  accounted  by  history  as  one  of  his  claims  to 
greatness.  Prince  Bismark  is  anything  but  an 
idealist,  but  he  is  a  man  of  very  excitable  tempera- 
ment. This  measure  was  a  trump  card  to  be  played 
against  the  middle  class,  which  had  plagued  him  so 
sorely  during  the  years  of  struggle  in  the  Prussian 
Chamber,  elected  under  a  property- qualification. 
We  can  understand  his  indignation  at  seeinsf  the 
means  for  carrying  out  an  undertaking  which  he 
knew  to  be  absolutely  necessary  for  the  welfare  of 
Germany  so  obstinately  refused  him,  but  we  can  also 
understand  the  refusal  of  the  Chamber,  which  was  not 
initiated  into  the  secret  of  the  Minister's  plans,  and 
even  if  it  had  been,  might  perhaps  have  considered 
them  too  audacious.  After  the  stupendous  successes 
of  his  policy,  it  has  long  been  evident  that  the 
Chancellor  would  henceforth  have  as  little  resistance 
to  expect  from  the  Prussian  representatives  of  a 
restricted  franchise  as  from  a  Parliament  chosen  by 
universal  sufii^age,  and  that  in  this  respect,  therefore, 
the  measure  was  superfluous.  The  evil  consequences 
which  might  have  been  apprehended  have  not,  it  is 
true,  hitherto  been  realized  to  the  anticipated  ex- 


What  is  Our  Ride  of  Life?  10/ 

tent.  The  pressure  exercised  by  Government  on  the 
many  inefficient  electors  has  scarcely  been  percep- 
tibly increased.  Little  has  been  gained  by  the  de- 
mocratic element ;  for  the  clerical  party  has  in  this, 
as  always,  been  the  chief  gainer  by  the  mistakes 
of  the  Government;  and  no  other  has  manifested 
such  great  and  unmitigated  satisfaction  with  the 
measure.  Since  then,  in  the  Catholic  districts, 
the  intellio:ent  inhabitants  of  the  towns  are  lament- 
ably  out-voted  by  the  priest-ridden  peasantry, 
we  have  to  thank  manhood  suffrage  for  a  consider- 
able portion  of  the  so-called  centre  in  our  German. 
Parliament.  Whether  this  will  be  all — whether 
times  may  not  be  in  store  for  us  when  the  demo- 
cratic socialistic  party  will  increase  in  Parliament, 
and  by  its  coalition  with  the  clericals  create  serious 
difficulties  to  Government,  cannot  be  at  present 
predicted  with  exactness. 

But  independently  of  its  possible  consequences, 
I  cannot  consider  this  measure  as  in  itself 
either  just  or  politic.  The  political  rights  accorded 
to  the  individual  by  the  State  should  be  in  propor- 
tion to  the  services  rendered  to  the  State  by  the 
individual.  True,  it  is  said  every  German  citizen 
is  called  upon  to  stake  his  life  for  the  German  State, 
and  he  ought,  therefore,  also  to  be  allowed  to  cast 


1 08  The  Old  Faith  arid  the  New, 

Ins  vote  into  the  ballot-box ;  the  universal  duty  of 
bearinor  arms  on  the  one  side  involves  the  rio^ht  of 
universal  suffrage  on  the  other.  The  two  things  are 
not  so  immediately  connected,  however.  The  mili- 
tary duties  which  the  individual  does  by  the  State 
are  compensated,  in  the  first  place,  by  the  protec- 
tion of  life  and  property  which  the  latter  affords  to 
him  and  his  family,  by  the  participation  in  public 
instruction  and  the  possible  succession  to  municipal 
or  political  offices  which  he  shares  in  common  with 
his  fellow-citizens.  But  besides  this  the  personal 
participation  in  military  service  is  only  one  of  those 
services  to  which  the  State  lays  claim.  Another 
not  less  important  one  is  the  contribution  which  the 
citizen  makes  to  the  support  of  the  State  by  the  pay- 
ment of  taxes.  The  greater  amount  of  these  financial 
services  entitles  the  monied  elector  to  a  proportion- 
ate increase  of  political  power,  as  in  this  possession 
itself  lies  the  greatest  safeguard  against  the  misuse 
of  his  vote.  In  the  property  of  the  wealthy  the  State 
possesses,  as  it  were,  a  surety  that  the  possessor  will 
not  give  his  vote  to  a  candidate  who  might  endanger 
the  State  and  its  institutions  by  wild  ]3''ojects 
through  which  his  own  security  would  necessarily  be 
imperilled.  Tlie  State  does  not  ]3rofess  a  similar 
safeguard  in  the  case  of  the  poor  elector,  who  may 


W/iat  is  Our  Rule  of  Life  ?  109 

rather  hope  to  be  a  gainer  bv  a  revolution,  and  who 
at  any  rate  has  not  much  to  lose. 

Lastly  and  chiefly,  it  is  a  mistake  to  be  always 
speaking  of  the  franchise  as  if  it  were  only  a  right 
and  not  rather  a  political  function  imposed  by  the 
state  upon  the  individual.  A  task,  however,  is  only 
portioned  out  in  proportion  to  the  capacities  of  the 
individual.  In  this  case  the  capacity  consists  in  a 
certain  amount  of  judgment,  of  insight  into  what 
requires  to  be  done.  A  person  is  to  be  chosen  who, 
in  conjunction  with  others,  has  for  a  certain  period 
of  time  to  control  the  functions  of  the  executire 
body,  as  well  as  in  some  degree  to  exercise  an  influ- 
ence on  their  methods.  But  no  one  can  judge  of  a 
person's  ca]3acity  for  this  who  has  not  an  idea  of  the 
actual  wants  of  the  body-politic  to  which  he  belongs. 
We  need  scarcely  point  out  here  how  enormous  is 
the  difference  in  des^ree  with  w^hich  this  idea  is 
grasped  by  the  different  members  of  the  community, 
from  the  ntter  absence  of  it,  to  an  instinctive  per- 
ception and  up  to  complete  perspicuity  of  intelli- 
gence. But  it  does  not  follow  that  the  gradation  of 
the  electoral  rights  must  necessarily  correspond  to 
this  gradation  of  capacity,  even  w^ere  that  possible. 
But  though  political  capacity  is  not  capable  of  exact 
re  :^asurement,    we    must    not    conclude    that    the 


no  TJie  Old  Faith  a7id  the  New. 

measurement  may  be  utterly  omitted.  It  is  true, 
we  cannot  place  an  examining  body  in  front  of  the 
ballot-box ;  we  must  abide  by  the  approximate 
signs,  which  are  generally  patent.  And  we  may 
presume,  on  the  average,  that  the  wealthy  are  better 
informed,  more  variously  educated  than  the  poor ; 
which  is  self-evident  as  regards  the  professionally 
educated,  such  as  all  civil  officers,  scholars,  artists. 
Here,  then,  we  have  at  least  two  classes  of  electors, 
and  the  State,  should  it  entrust  a  member  of  the  one 
with  an  entire  vote,  should  entrust  a  member  of  the 
other  with  only  perhaps  one-sixth  or  one-tenth  of 
one  ;  unless,  indeed,  with  Stuart  Mill,  it  prefers  the 
so-called  cumulative  vote,  introducing  a  graduated 
order  of  election.  In  Germany  such  an  arrangement 
needs  only  to  be  restored,  as  it  still  in  part  exists  in 
the  Chambers  of  individual  states :  but  it  is  the 
curse  of  precipitate  action  that  a  false  step  once 
taken  can  only  with  great  difficulty  be  retraced. 

As  a  drag,  so  to  speak,  against  the  too  rapid 
down-hill  motion  of  the  State-engine,  manhood 
suffi^age  has  been  accompanied  by  the  suppression 
of  the  salaries  of  representatives;  a  regulation 
which,  considering  the  low  average  of  incomes  in 
Germany,  is  oppressive,  and  can  probably  hardly 
be  maintained  for  long :  nevertheless,  if  I  were  a 


What  is  Our  Rule  of  Life?  1 1 1 

member  of  the  House,  I  would  persistent!}'  vote 
against  its  abrogation, — partly  in  order  to  oppose  a 
barrier  to  the  influx  of  the  Bebel-Liebknecht  element 
into  the  Assembly,  partly  because  I  imagine  that  a 
compromise  may  possibly  be  effected  on  the  basis  of 
this  institution.  This  would  be  in  fact,  that  the 
Assembly  should  concede  to  Government  the  limit- 
ation of  manhood  suffrage —  that  it  should  consent  to 
the  re-establishment  of  even  a  moderate  property- 
qualification,  receiving  instead  an  allowance  to  be 
administered  according  to  the  most  urgent  necessity. 

82. 

Among  the  signs  of  the  power  exercised  by 
high-sounding  phrases  and  fashionable  prejudices, 
I  enumerate  also,  as  already  hinted,  the  agitation 
against  capital  punishment  which  we  see  revived 
at  every  opportunity.  Capital  punishment  has 
long  ago  been  mitigated  as  well  as  restricted : 
every  aggravation  of  it  has  been  abolished;  a 
multitude  of  transgressions,  and  even  of  crimes  to 
which  the  penalty  of  death  was  formerly  attached, 
are  now  punished  by  a  shorter  or  longer  period  of 
incarceration.  Let  it  be  still  further  restricted, 
let  the  act  of  execution,  especially,  be  restricted 
within  a  completely  enclosed  space,  and  its  inflic- 


1 1 2  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New, 

tion  be  reserved  for  the  crime  of  premeditated 
assassination.  But  to  desire  its  abolition  even  in 
tins  case,  I  consider  to  be  a  crime  against  society, 
and  at  a  time  like  the  present  as  sheer  madness. 

The  ideas  which  have  now  pervaded  a  numerous 
class,  which  is  still  boldly  pushing  its  way  forward, 
are  a  luxuriant  hotbed  of  robbery  and  murder. 
He  who  considers  the  possession  of  property  as  a 
wrong,  hating  the  possessor  of  it  as  one  who  has 
wronged  and  is  wronging  him,  will,  by  way  of 
establishing  an  equilibrium,  easily  award  to  him- 
self the  right  of  taking  his  property,  and  should  he 
not  willingly  yield  it,  his  life  also.  We  need  only 
glance  at  a  newspaper ;  every  week  we  may  find  a 
case  of  this  kind. 

I  will  only  quote  one  which  gives  one  a  most 
vivid  idea  of  the  state  of  matters.  In  August, 
1869,  Antogast,  a  manufacturer  of  Freiburg,  was 
staying  at  the  peaceful  baths  of  the  Reuchthal. 
He  failed  to  return  from  a  solitary  walk,  and  was 
immediately  after  found  robbed  and  murdered  in 
the  wood.  A  few  days  afterwards,  a  person  was 
arrested  for  creating  a  disturbance  in  a  house  of  ill- 
repute  at  Strasburg.  In  his  possession  were  found 
the  watch  and  chain  of  the  murdered  man,  already 
described   in  the   police  advertisement.  He   was   a 


What  is  Oicr  Ride  of  Life '^  113 

shoemaker  from  Wurtemburg,  and  lie  confessed  to 
having  committed  the  murder  in  company  with 
another.  They  provided  themselves  with  weapons 
at  Kehl,  and  proceeded  to  the  baths  of  the  Reuch- 
thal  with  the  fixed  determination  "  to  murder  and 
rob  the  first  person  they  should  meet,  who  might 
be  presumed  to  have  money  about  him !  "  Before 
coming  across  this  victim,  they  had  met  two 
persons,  a  lady  and  a  priest,  whom,  however,  they 
had  suffered  to  pass,  they  not  having  the  appear- 
ance of  being  provided  with  money.  The  other 
accomplice  had  escaped ;  this  one  was  condemned 
to  death  by  the  jury,  but  pardoned  by  the  Grand- 
duke  of  Baden.  I  have  always  felt  the  profoundest 
veneration,  the  warmest  attachment,  for  the  Grand- 
duke  Frederic,  as  being  an  excellent  Sovereign  and 
a  truly  German  Prince — the  only  one  who,  in  join- 
ing the  new  German  Confederation,  need  not  have 
exclaimed  with  Schiller's  Isabella,  that  he  acted  in 
obedience  to  necessity,  not  to  his  own  impulse; 
but  I  have  lamented  this  act  of  pardon.  I  believe 
that  in  this  case  his  kind  heart,  his  anxious  conscien- 
tiousness, have  misled  him,  in  his  desire  to  spare 
the  criminal,  into  committing  a  wrong  against 
society,  which  it  is  the  first  duty  of  a  prince  to  de- 
fend.   He    owes    to    it    in    such    a    case    to   set 


1 1 4  The  Old  Faiih  and  the  JVeiv. 

an  example,  to  erect  an  image  of  terror  which  the 
wicked  may  behold  from  afar,  which  may  show 
them  that  not  boundless  desire,  but  justice,  gives 
the  final  decision  in  the  world.  We  need  not 
endeavour  to  prove  here,  that  lifelong  imprison- 
ment, whence  every  criminal  trusts  to  effect  his 
escape,  exercises  no  such  'prestige  of  terror. 

I  am  not  ignorant  that  the  majority  of  lawj^ers 
are  now  wont  at  their  judicial  congresses,  and  on 
other  occasions,  to  declare  themselves  in  favour  of 
the  abolition  of  capital  punishment.  I  am,  how- 
ever, so  bold  as  not  to  let  myself  be  deterred  by  this, 
— least  of  all  by  their  appeals  to  certain  alleged 
statistical  facts ;  according  to  which,  in  this  or  that 
country  the  number  of  crimes  has  diminished  on 
the  abolition  of  capital  punishment.  For  it  is  but 
too  patent  that  here  they  ascribe  to  this  pet  scheme 
what  in  reahty  is  the  result  of  concurrent  factors, — 
such  as  the  improvement  of  education,  of  the  police, 
the  general  growth  of  prosperity, — causes  which 
more  than  compensate  for  the  mischief  occasioned 
by  the  abolition  of  capital  punishment.  But  neither 
can  the  momentary  majority  of  the  lawyers  weigh 
with  me  as  the  definite  judgment  of  professional 
men.  The  legal  profession,  in  its  strong  contingent 
of  advocates,  has  always  one  side  which  is  too  sus- 


What  is  Our  Rule  of  Life?  115 

ceptible  to  influences  of  so-called  public  opinion, 
which  in  countless  cases  means  nothing  but  that 
of  the  ruling  prejudice.  But,  besides  this,  profes- 
sional men  are  notoriously  too  profoundly  immersed 
in  technicalities  to  readily  soar  above  them.  This, 
however,  they  must  do  in  this  case  :  the  question 
of  capital  punishment  is  not  one  for  lawyers,  but 
for  legislators.  The  subject  is  in  good  hands  with 
our  leading  German  statesman :  he  will  maintain 
capital  punishment;  but  the  condemned  will  be 
pardoned  by  his  Emperor.  Whereby  again  our 
case  will  not  be  mended. 

83. 

As  regards  the  relation  of  the  State  to  the  Church, 
we  on  our  part  must  naturally  take  the  liveliest 
interest  in  the  action  of  those  men  who  have  now 
made  it  their  task  to  regulate  this  relation  in  con- 
sonance with  public  welfare  and  liberty  of  thought, 
— our  wish  especially  in  this  case  being  that  the 
strong  and  nrm  hand  of  the  German  Chancellor 
may  not  be  hindered  by  the  interference  of  weaker 
hands. 

For  our  own  part,  however,  we  do  not  at  pre- 
sent crave  more  from  these  movements  than  did 
Diogenes  from  Alexander.     All  we  ask  is,  that  the 


1 1 6  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New. 

shadow  of  the  Church  may  no  longer  fall  across 
our  path :  that  we  may  no  longer,  that  is,  see 
ourselves  compelled  to  have  any  sort  of  relation 
with  the  Church.  This,  among  other  things,  would 
involve  the  s^eneral  introduction  of  civil  marriaore, 
for  which  people  seem  at  length  sufficiently  em- 
boldened. The  citizen,  in  fact,  should  no  longer 
be  asked  to  which  church  he  belongs,  but  whether 
he  belongs  or  wishes  to  belong  to  any.  When 
the  great  Frederick  proclaimed  throughout  his 
dominions  the  liberty  of  the  individual  to  go  to 
heaven  after  his  own  fashion,  he  would  perhaps 
have  opened  his  eyes  wide,  but  certainly  not  in 
anger,  if  one  of  his  people,  otherwise  known  to 
him  as  a  man  of  honour,  had  given  him  the  an- 
swer, "Pardon,  Sire,  but  I  have  no  desire  to  go 
to  heaven  at  all :  "  for  let  there  be  no  miscon- 
ception of  his  meaning,  the  saying  in  his  mouth 
only  implied — Let  every  one  in  my  kingdom  be 
a  fool  to  the  top  of  his  bent,  so  long  only  as  his 
folly  does  not  interfere  with  the  common  weal. 

We  do  not  for  a  moment  ignore  the  necessity 
which  now  exists,  and  must  long  exist,  of  a 
Church  for  the  majority  of  mankind ;  whether  it 
will  remain  thus  to  the  end  of  ham  an  affairs,  we 
regard  as  an  open  question ;  but  we  look  upon  the 


What  is  Our  Rule  of  Life?  117 

opinion  as  a  prejudice,  Avhich  deems  that  ever}^  in- 
dividual must  necessarily  belong  to  a  church ;  and 
that  he  to  whom  the  old  no  longer  suffices,  must 
join  a  new  one.  This  is  the  reason  of  all  that 
bungling  meddling  with  the  ancient  Church,  all 
that  patchwork  of  the  so-called  theology  of  media- 
tion. In  Lessing's  time  the  effort  was  to  effect 
a  compromise  between  revelation  and  reason ;  in 
our  day  they  speak  of  the  task  they  have  set  them- 
selves *'  of  reconciling  general  culture  with  Chris- 
tian piety."  But  the  undertaking  has  not  become 
more  reasonable  or  more  practicable  than  in  the 
time  of  Lessing.  It  is  very  certain  that  if  the  old 
faith  was  absurd,  this  applies  doubly  and  trebly  to 
the  modernized  form  of  it,  as  shown  in  the  Protes- 
tant League  and  the  exponents  of  Jena.  The  old 
creed  at  least  was  only  contrary  to  reason,  not  self- 
contradictory ;  the  new  belief  contradicts  itself  at 
every  point :  how  then  can  it  possibly  be  consonant 
to  reason  ? 

The  most  consistent  of  all  are  the  so-called  free 
congregations,  who  take  their  stand  outside  the 
dogmatic  tradition,  on  the  ground  of  rational 
thought,  of  the  natural  sciences  and  history.  This 
ground  is,  of  course,  firm  enough,  but  not  the  basis 
for  a  religious   society.     I  have    attended  several 


1 1 8  The  Old  Faith  and  the  N'ew, 

services  of  the  free  congregation  in  Berlin,  and 
found  them  terribly  dry  and  unedifying.  I  quite 
thirsted  for  an  allusion  to  the  biblical  legend  or  the 
Christian  calendar,  in  order  to  get  at  least  something 
for  the  heart  and  imagination, but  nothing  of  the  kind 
was  forthcoming.  No ;  this  is  not  the  way  either. 
After  the  edifice  of  the  Church  has  been  demolished, 
to  go  and  give  a  lecture  on  the  bare,  imperfectly 
levelled  site,  is  dismal  to  a  degree  that  is  awful. 
Either  everything  or  nothing.  As  a  rule,  these 
congregations  are  founded  by  clergymen  who  have 
seceded  from  the  established  churches,  and  yet  are 
anxious  to  retain  a  sphere  of  ecclesiastical  activity ; 
but  they  do  not  equally  correspond  to  any  demand 
on  the  part  of  laymen,  who,  when  they  have 
become  estranged  from  the  standpoint  of  their 
church,  prefer  on  the  whole  to  retire  from  divine 
service.  And  the  more  thoroughly  the  State  recog- 
nizes their  position  in  this  respect,  the  less  motive 
will  they  have  for  the  future  to  depart  from  this 
negative  attitude. 

We  on  our  part — I  refer  to  the  We  as  whose 
mouthpiece  I  regard  myself  throughout  this  whole 
disquisition — although  we  find  ourselves  annoyed,  in 
view  of  the  attitude  we  have  taken  up  towards  the 
Church,  at  being  still  forced  into  some  sort  of  con- 


What  is  Our  Rule  of  Life  1  119 

tact  with  her,  especially  as  regards  certain  ritu- 
alistic observances;  nevertheless,  feel  so  little  the 
need  of  another  church,  which  should  be  partly  or 
entirely  based  on  reason,  that  we  would  not  become 
members  of  such  a  one,  even  if  the  State  were 
liberally  to  endow  it  with  all  the  privileges  of 
the  old  churches, 

84. 
As  if  meditation  were  only  possible  in  a  church, 
edification  only  to  be  found  in  a  sermon  !  Why  hold 
fast  by  an  antiquated,  exhausted  form,  at  a  time 
and  in  a  state  of  culture,  when  there  flow  so  many 
other  and  more  abundant  sources  of  intellectual 
stimulus  and  moral  invigoration  ?  After  all,  it  is 
nothing  but  habit.  It  is  so  difficult  to  think  of 
the  place  as  empty  where  something  used  alwaj^s 
to  stand.  Sunday  must  continue  Sunday,  and  on 
Sunday  one  goes  to  church.  As  we  have  re- 
marked at  the  commencement,  we  have  no  wish  to 
quarrel  with  anybody ;  "  let  each  act  up  to  his  own 
light."  We  would  but  indicate  how  we  act,  how 
we  have  acted  these  many  years.  Besides  our 
profession — for  we  are  members  of  the  most  various 
professions,  and  by  no  means  exclusively  consist  of 
scholars  or  artists,  but  of  military  men  and  civil 


1 20  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New, 

employes,  of  merchants   and   landed   proprietors 

nor  is  the  female  sex  unrepresented  among  us ;  and 
again,  as  I  have  said  already,  there  are  not  a  few 
of  us,  but  many  thousands,  and  not  the  worst 
people  in  the  country; — besides  our  profession, 
then,  1  say,  and  the  family  life  and  friendly  cir- 
cle, wo  are  eagerlv  accessible  to  all  the  hi^i^her 
interests  of  humanity.  In  recent  years  we  have 
taken  a  vivid  interest  in  the  great  national  war, 
and  the  reconstruction  of  the  German  State,  and 
each  after  his  manner  has  participated  in  it,  and 
we  have  been  greatly  exalted  by  the  unexpected 
and  glorious  course  which  events  have  taken  for 
our  much  tried  nation.  To  the  end  of  forming 
just  conclusions  in  these  things,  we  study  history, 
which  has  now  been  made  easy  even  to  the  un- 
learned by  a  number  of  attractively  and  popularly 
written  works ;  at  the  same  time  we  endeavour  to 
enlarge  our  knowledge  of  the  natural  sciences,  where 
also  there  is  no  lack  of  sources  of  information  ;  and 
lastly,  in  the  writings  of  our  great  poets,  in  the  per- 
formances of  our  great  musicians,  we  find  a  satisfy- 
ing stimulus  for  the  intellect  and  the  heart,  and  for 
fancy  in  her  deepest  or  most  sportive  moods. 
*'  Thus  we  live,  and  hold  on  our  way  in  joy.'' 

It  is  objected  that  this  must  always  remain  an 


What  is  Our  Rule  of  Life '^  121 

expedient  of  scholars,  or  at  least  of  tlie  cultured 
few ;  that  such  reading  and  study  does  not  suit  the 
plain  man;  that  he  lacks  the  needful  leisure  and 
comprehension.  Our  poets,  especially,  it  is  said, 
are  too  much  above  him.  The  Bible  is  more  suit- 
able for  him ;  this  he  can  understand.  He  under- 
stands the  Bible,  does  he  ?  But  how  many  of  the 
theologians  understand  it  ?  pretend  to  understand 
it  ?  Yes ;  men  think  they  understand  the  Bible, 
because  they  have  grown  accustomed  to  misunder- 
standing it.  The  modern  reader  also,  doubtless, 
puts  as  much  edilication  into  it  as  he  takes  out  of  it. 
Not  to  speak  even  of  such  books  as  the  Revelation 
of  St.  John,  and  most  of  the  prophets  of  the  Old 
Testament,  let  it  not  be  deemed  that  Lessing's 
"JS'athan,"  or  Goethe's  "Hermann  and  Dorothea," 
are  more  difficult  of  comprehension,  and  contain 
fewer  "  saving  truths  "  than  an  epistle  of  Paul,  or  a 
discourse  of  Christ  as  reported  by  John.  Let  it  be 
specially  considered  whether  if  our  peasant  children 
should  be  less  plagued  in  the  village  school  with 
the  geography  of  Palestine,  and  the  history  of  the 
Jews,  with  unintelligible  articles  of  faith  and  in- 
digestible precepts,  there  would  be  all  the  In  ore 
time  to  educate  them  so  as  to  awaken  their  interest 
in  the  intellectual  life  of  their  own  people,  and  to 


122  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New, 

lead  them  on  to  draw  for   themselves  from   such 
abundant  sources  of  cultm^e. 

But  I  have  just  spoken  of  the  works  of  our  great 
poets  and  composers  —  of  the  nourishment  they 
afford  to  the  intellect  and  heart.  The  function  of 
art  in  all  its  branches  is,  no  doubt,  to  reveal  the 
harmony  of  the  universe,  or  at  least  display  it  to  us 
in  miniature,  for  though  it  ever  maintains  itself 
amid  the  apparent  confusion  of  phenomena,  it 
exceeds  our  comprehension  as  an  infinite  whole. 
This  is  the  reason  of  the  intimate  connection  which, 
with  all  nations,  has  always  existed  between  art 
and  religion.  The  great  creations  of  the  plastic 
arts  have  also  in  this  sense  a  religious  influence. 
Poetry  and  music,  however,  exert  the  most  direct 
influence  of  this  kind  on  our  inner  life ;  and  on 
this  point  there  is  stiU  something  on  my  mind 
which  I  should  like  to  say.  But  it  is  not  meant 
to  contain  advice  as  to  how  the  masters  of  the  one 
art  should  be  read,  and  those  of  the  other  heard; 
I  have  no  wish  to  tyrannize  over  the  sentiment 
of  any  one;  let  it  only  be  permitted  me  to  say 
how  I  have  heard  and  read  them,  and  what  I  felt 
and  thought  in  doing  so.  If  I  should,  perhaps, 
become  more  garrulous  than  may  seem  warranted 
in  this  place,  let  the  reader  be  indulgent  to  me: 


W/iat  is  Our  Ride  of  Life  ?  123. 

from  tlie  fullness  of  the  heart  the  mouth  speak- 
eth.  Let  him  only  be  assured  that  what  he  is 
now  about  to  read  does  not  consist  of  older  ma- 
terials, which  I  take  an  opportunity  of  inserting 
here,  but  that  these  remarks  have  been  written 
for  their  present  place  and  purpose. 


125 


APPENDIX. 


I__OF  OUR  GREAT  POETS. 

85. 
T]^f  ASMTJCH  as  the  gift  of  poetry  belongs  to  the 

common  endowment  of  human  nature,  a  poetic 
literature  existing  at  least  among  all  civilized  nations, 
the  member  of  any  one  nation  stands  in  a  double 
relation  to  this  literature.  It  is  true  that,  in  the  first 
place,  he  will  resort  for  his  poetic  instruction  and 
delight  to  the  productions  of  his  own  people;  but  the 
more  thorough  his  culture,  the  more  will  he  seek  to 
acquaint  himself  with  those  of  other  nations  also. 

The  difference  of  language  constitutes  a  barrier 
between  him  and  these  latter,  which  the  scholar 
strives  to  overcome  by  means  of  his  hnguistic  pro- 
ficiency, and  the  unlearned  by  the  aid  of  translations. 
In  this  latter  respect,  the  German  possesses  a  decided 
advantage  over  his  fellow-student  in  other  modern 
nations.     As  his  country  is  situated  in  the  heart 


126  The  Old  Faith  and  the  Neiv. 

of  the  most  civilized  portion  of  our  globe,  so  his 
language  also,  to  a  certain  extent,  occupies  a  central 
position.  This  is  not  true  in  genealogical  sense  as 
it  is  of  Latin,  the  root  of,  and  consequently  the  key  to, 
a  wide  group  of  affiliated  languages,  (though  Ger- 
man is  even  this  in  a  narrower  compass)  ;  but  rather, 
as  it  were,  in  a  typical  sense,  because  no  other  lan- 
guage is  capable  of  receiving  so  pure  an  impression 
of  the  original  poetical  form.  The  German  tongue 
resembles  a  Pantheon,  where  by  the  side  of  the  in- 
digenous images  in  marble  or  bronze,  are  placed,  at 
the  same  time,  perfect  casts  of  the  most  excellent  for- 
eign works.  It  is  the  only  one  of  the  living  lan- 
guages that  possesses  the  capacity  of  rendering  the 
poetic  productions  of  the  various  nations  of  ancient 
and  modern  times  in  their  original  metres.  Pope  has 
translated  Homer  into  English  in  the  decasyllabic 
rhymed  couplet;  and  Delille  rendered  Virgil  into 
French  in  the  inevitable  Alexandrines ;  as  the 
latter  measure  is  also  that  of  the  drama  in  France, 
^schylus  and  Sophocles  likewise  fall  to  its  share ; 
whereas  England  has  at  least  blank  verse  at  its  dis- 
position. In  translating  Pindar,  Horace,  and  other 
lyri(^l  poets,  recourse  is  had  in  both  languages  to 
rhymed  metres,  unless  the  medium  of  prose  be 
preferred,  which  is  usually  the  case,  and  judiciously 


Appendix.  127 

so  in  renderings  from  the  former  poet.  Since  Voss 
led  the  way  for  Homer,  A.  W.  Schlegel  for  Shak- 
speare  and  Calderon,  we  Germans  can  read  in  trans- 
lations all  that  has  been  produced  for  nearly  three 
thousand  years  from  the  Ganges  to  the  Tagus — 
translations  which  make  us  not  only  sensible  to 
the  spirit  and  matter,  but  to  the  linguistic  and 
metrical  form,  in  its  most  delicate  shades.  This 
quality  of  our  language,  and  the  achievements  of  the 
German  art  of  translation,  enable  those  among  the 
nation  who  strive  after  self-culture  to  enlarge  their 
horizon,  and  their  mode  of  feeling,  beyond  the  limits 
of  their  nationality — a  possibility  which  cannot  be 
too  highly  rated,  and  which  has  stood  our  great 
poets  and  their  productions  in  good  stead.  French 
has  become  a  universal  language  through  its  faculty 
of  obtruding  or  insinuating  itself  among  all  nations 
as  a  means  of  intercourse :  German  from  its  faculty 
of  assimilating  the  noblest  productions  of  all  other 
languages. 

Let  the  stimulus  imparted  to  us  by  the  great 
poetical  works  of  other  times  and  nations  be  ever 
so  important  and  lasting,  a  thoroughly  intimate 
relation  can  nevertheless  exist  for  any  one  only  with 
the  poets  of  his  own  people.  Here  we  breathe  the 
air  of  our  native  hills  and  valleys ;  spirit  of  our  spirit 


128  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New. 

blows  in  upon  ns  ;  here  ^\Q  meet  with  the  manners 
and  customs  in  .which  we  ourselves  were  nurtured. 
Shakspeare '^ma-5r-:poBsftft5R^  greater  than  Goethe; 
Sirius  may  ^JgR  possibly  be  greater  than  the  Sun, 
but  he  does  not  ripen  our  grapes. 

German  poetry,  as  we  know,  has  had  two  seasons 
of  bloom  :  once  in  the  middle  age,  under  the  Hohen- 
staufen  dynasty,  the  other  period,  from  the  middle  of 
the  last  century  until  some  time  after  the  beginning 
of  the  present.  The  present  generation  stands  in 
nearly  the  same  relation  to  that  first  springtime  of 
our  poetry  as  to  a  foreign  literature ;  he  who  has  not 
made  it  his  special  study  requires  a  translation  for 
its  comprehension  (of  which,  by  the  way,  we  also 
possess  most  excellent  specimens) ;  and  the  manners 
and  ideas  of  the  German  age  of  chivalry  are  scarcely 
less  alien  to  us  than  those  of  the  Romans  in  the 
Augustan  or  of  the  English  in  the  Elizabethan  age. 
To  this  may  be  added,  that  these  old  German  poems 
possess,  as  a  rule,  more  of  a  relative  historico-national 
than  of  an  absolute  political  and  human  value ;  he 
who  has  made  himself  acquainted  with  the  Nibe- 
lungenlied, with  the  sententious  poems  of  Walter 
von  der  Yogelweide,  and  perhaps,  w^e  may  add, 
with  Tristan  and  Isolde,  can  dispense,  if  need  be, 
with  the  rest. 


Appendix,  1 29 

A  thorougli  and  complete  satisfaction  is  only  to 
be  found  by  us  in  the  poets  of  the  second  period — • 
the  fathers  and  grandfath3rs  of  our  present  intel- 
lectual and  emotional  culture,  to  whose  wise  and 
exquisite  songs  we  naturally  never  grow  weary  of 
listening  in  gratitude  and  eager  desire  of  instruction. 
The  space  at  our  disposal,  however,  obliges  us  to 
pass  over  even  the  great,  in  order  to  do  at  least 
partial  justice  to  the  greatest;  and  I  shall  there- 
fore restrict  myself — however  much  tliere  might 
be  to  say  of  others  —  to  Lessiiig,  Goethe,  and 
Schiller. 

86. 
It  is  an  inestimable  blessing  for  the  Gerraan 
people  that  a  man  like  Lessing  should  stand  at  the 
portal  to  the  classical  epoch  of  its  literature.  He 
was  critic  and  poet,  archaeologist  and  philosopher, 
dramatist  and  theologian ;  and  to  have  in  each 
of  these  departments  discovered  some  new  point 
of  view,  led  the  way  to  fresh  paths,  opened  out 
profounder  veins.  Yet  his  universality  is  the  least 
of  his  merits;  it  is  the  unity  in  him  of  the  writer 
and  the  man,  of  the  head  and  heart,  whicli  is  his 
glory.  His  character  is  as  transparent  as  his  thought, 
his  aspii^ation  as  unflagging  as  liis  style.    In  his  per 


I30  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New, 

son,  Love  and  Sincerity  may  be  said  themselves  to 
stand  guard  at  the  threshold  of  our  literature. 

In  his  collected  works  there  is  indeed  much 
which  is  either  too  erudite  for  the  general  public,  or 
which,  having  been  written  under  the  stress  of 
daily  occurrences,  has  grown  antiquated,  with  the 
events  to  which  it  refers.  Nevertheless,  nothing 
can  be  more  erroneous  than  the  current  notion  that 
his  dramas  are  all  that  one  need  study  of  his  works. 
On  the  contrary,  if  we  except  Nathan,  however 
masterly  and  historically  important  his  two  other 
principal  dramatic  works  may  be,  yet  if  one  knows 
nothing  else  of  his,  the  true  Lessing  has  not  yet 
been  reached.  And  the  aims  and  full  scope  of 
Nathan  even,  can  only  be  thoroughly  understood 
by  means  of  his  essays  in  theological  controversy, 
of  which  it  was  in  a  manner  the  flower. 

But  even  among  his  other  critical  and  polemical 
writings,  what  a  welling  up  of  fresh,  living  foun- 
tains !  What  exhilaration  and  spur  to  the  student 
just  beginning  to  read  Horace  with  his  teacher, 
should  the  Yade  mecum  for  Pastor  Lange  of 
Laublingen  fall  in  his  way  !  how  do  the  scales 
fall  from  our  eyes  when  in  his  Laocoon  we  first  see 
the  boundaries  of  the  arts  defined  with  unimagined 
profoundness  and  acuteness  :  how  do  we  learn  to 


Appendix,  131 

distinguish  between  the  real  and  unreal  learnino 
and  character  cf  the  scholar,  in  the  antiquarian 
letters  addressed  to  Klotz :  what  vivid  lights  are 
thrown,  in  his  Dramaturgy,  on  the  essence  of 
tragedy,  on  the  false  classicism  of  the  French  stage, 
on  Shakspeare's  gigantic  genius :  how,  among  his 
treasures,  do  we  hearken  to  the  librarian,  who  is  also 
the  intellectual  champion  of  liberty,  in  his  discourse 
with  great  predecessors  in  "Berengarius  Turonensis," 
where  by  imperceptible  steps  we  are  led  from  the  field 
of  antiquarian  lore  to  that  of  theological  criticism ! 

And  here  only  it  is  that  we  enter  on  the  inmost 
sanctuary  of  Lessing's  writings,  as  he  himself  in 
them  attained  the  summit  of  his  career.  The 
supplements  to  the  fragments  of  Reimarus  fear- 
lessly indicate,  behind  the  ruin  of  the  biblical 
letter,  a  religion  of  the  spirit,  which  is  independent 
of  it;  the  polemical  writings  against  Götze  must 
ever  remain  models  of  unsparing  severity  to  the 
antagonist, — not  as  so  many  of  their  class,  for 
the  sake  of  a  vain  literary  egotism,  but  entirely 
in  the  service  of  truth,  as  whose  anointed  priest 
the  combatant  comes  forth.  And  what  p'lre, 
mildly  gleaming  pearls  are  inserted  amidst  the 
chain  of  those  combative  writings,  in  such  pieces  as 
the    Education    of   the    Human    Race,    and    the 


132  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New. 

Testament  of  St.  John;  of  which  the  first  sheds 
its  gentle  conciliating  light  over  the  whole  course  of 
religious  history,  while  the  other,  in  spite  of  its 
slight  compass,  may,  on  account  of  its  lofty  beauty 
of  form  and  the  wonderful  profundity  of  its  matter, 
be  ranked  as  the  equal  of  ISTathan.  It  must  appear 
superfluous  to  say  anything  more,  particularly  of 
this  work ;  but  let  it  at  least  be  added,  that  as  every 
religion  has  its  traditionally  sacred  books,  thus  the 
sacred  book  of  the  religion  of  humanity  and 
morality  which  we  profess,  is  no  other  than  the 
Nathan  of  Lessing. 

87. 
It  is  difficult  to  begin  speaking  of  Goethe,  because 
it  is  difficult  to  have  done  with  him.  He  is  a  world 
in  himself,  so  rich  and  varied  that  none  of  us  who 
come  after  him  may  hope  even  to  f\iny  comprehend 
him.  We  of  to-day,  however,  stand  abeady  in  a 
much  more  favourable  relation  toward's  him  than  the 
preceding  generation,  because  thö  greater  distance 
admits  of  a  more  correct  visual  ano-i«.  Durinsj 
his  lifetime,  and  even  for  the  first  tea  or  twenty 
years  after  his  death,  one  or  the  other  cf  his  con- 
temporaries might  have  appeared  his  tv^ual,  and 
even  his  superior ;  as  sometimes  in  the  neighbour- 


Appendix.  1 33 

hood  of  an  Alpine  range  a  nearer  eminence  in  the 
foreground  will  seem  to  overtop,  or  at  least  to  rival, 
the  highest  peak  of  all.  Now  we  are  already  removed 
to  such  a  distance,  that  we  can  prove  by  actual 
measurement  how  even  the  most  prominent  summit 
beside  him — that  is,  Schiller — although  himself  of 
commanding  height,  yet  is  far  from  attaining 
Goethe's.  He  now  meets  our  view  as  the  primary 
range  which  dominates  our  horizon,  watering  our 
plains  with  the  springs  and  streams  which  take  their 
rise  in  it.  The  voices  of  envy  and  stupidity  which 
thirty  years  ago  still  vied  with  each  other  in 
belittling  and  vilifying  him  have  now  grown  dumb, 
or  are  listened  to  no  longer.  We  all,  Germans  of 
to-day — not  excepting  even  those  who  have  never 
read  Goethe's  works,  if  only  they  have  not  in  other 
respects  been  excluded  from  the  culture  of  our 
time — we  all  directly  or  indirectly  owe  him  more 
than  we  are  aware  of,  and  a  good  portion  of  the 
best  we  possess. 

His  works  form  a  library  by  themselves  so  rich, 
so  replete  with  the  healthiest,  most  invigo rating- 
nourishment  for  the  intellect,  that  one  might  dis- 
pense with  all  other  books,  and  yet  not  be  stinted. 
And  in  his  case,  as  in  that  of  Lessing,  it  is  by  no 
means  merely  a  question  of  his  strictly  poetical  works 


134  The  Old  Faith  and  the  Nezu. 

—poems,  dramas,  novels;  but,  in  a  narrower  or 
more  comprehensive  sense,  liis  other  productions 
belong  to  the  same  category.  Yast  as  is  the  com- 
pass of  Goethe's  poetical  productiveness,  his  general 
intellectual  power  extends  Ato  £p  lUiiiiJI  I  nil  distance. 
The  judge  of  Mythe  intricacies  and  profundities  of 
the  heart  explores  also  the  depths  and  the  veins  of 
the  mountains ;  the  delicate  observer  of  human  life 
and  its  various  circumstances  endeavours,  at  the  same 
time,  to  fathom  the  laws  of  light  and  colour;  the 
creator  of  so  many  harmonious  poems  of  the  purest 
symmetry  of  construction  knows  how  to  track  the 
mystery  of  creative  Nature  s  achievement  of  the 
ascending  structure  of  organic  life  on  our  earth. 
And  again,  this  open  sense  for  Nature,  for  the  inex- 
haustible fulness  of  her  life,  as  well  as  for  her  silent 
regulated  working,  reacts  to  the  full  on  all  Goethe's 
poetical  work.  Amidst  much  that  is  tremendous 
nothing  is  turbulent ;  in  J^  great^  variety  no 
disorder;  with  tii<*CtiJi<^  profundity, no  obscurity. 

88. 
Goethe  has  produced  great  things  in  every  depart- 
ment of  poetry  :  as  a  lyric  poet  he  is  perhaps  the 
greatest  of  all  times.     It  probably  arises  from  the 
fact  that,  as   he  himself  confesses,  all  his  poems, 


Appendix,  135 

and  more  particularly  his  lyrical  ones,  are  occasional, 
pourtraying  only  what  has  been  personally  expe- 
rienced, but  which  he  at  the  same  time  has  the 
secret  of  so  completely  elevating  to  the  summit  of 
the  universally  human,  of  the  ideal  and  typical,  that, 
divested  of  all  the  weight  of  earth,  his  poems  float 
around  us  like  genii  of  purest  sether.  In  the  love- 
songs  of  his  youth  he  has  given  such  expression  to 
his  feelings,  that  in  reading  there  the  history  of  his 
personal  love,  we  seem  at  the  same  time  to  be  reading 
the  history  of  all  youthful  love,  as  it  has  been  and 
must  always  continue  to  be.  On  the  other  hand, 
amongst  the  ballads.  The  Minstrel,  for  example, 
seems  to  have  been  entirely  the  product  of  ideal 
conceptions  of  the  olden  chivalry :  wliile  in  reality, 
perhaps  it  was  entirely  suggested  by  the  personal 
circumstances  of  the  poet.  The  minstrel  who 
declined  the  golden  chain  offered  him  by  the  King 
is  Goethe  himself,  whom  the  Duke  has  confidingly 
burdened  with  the  anxieties  and  honours  of  the 
chancellorship,  which  he  accepts  out  of  considera- 
tion for  his  sovereign  and  country,  knowing  also 
how  to  turn  it  to  poetical  account,  while,  neverthe- 
less, the  longing  wakes  ever  afresh  for  the  untram- 
melled life  of  the  poet,  the  only  one  fully  in 
harmony  with  his  inmost  nature. 


136  TJie  Old  Faith  and  the  New. 

It  is  impossible  for  me  to  enter  into  detail  regard- 
ing even  the  supremest  of  Goethe's  Ij-rical  produc- 
tions. I  must  not  dwell  on  the  convivial  songs,  so 
full  of  nervous  matter  and  energetic  exuberance  of 
aiiinial  spirits  ;  nor  on  the  ballads,  which,  from  the 
dreamy  simplicity  of  a  mere  description  of  nature,  as 
in  The  Fisherman,  or  the  northern  haze  enveloping 
The  Erl-king,  ascend  to  the  perfect  plastic  beauty  of 
Hellenism  in  The  Bride  of  Corinth,  or  to  the  seren- 
ity and  splendour  of  the  South,  as  in  The  God  and 
the  Bayadere.  I  must  also  pass  by  the  hymns  :  My 
Goddess,  Confines  of  Humanity,  etc.,  which,  contain- 
ing the  sublim.est  thoughts  and  images,  reveal  at  the 
same  time  the  subtlest  feeling  for  the  rhythm  of  the 
German  language ;  as  well  as  the  sage  sayings,  the 
glowing  Oriental  love-songs  of  the  Divan,  culminat- 
ing in  the  marvellous  :  the  thousand  forms  in  w^hich, 
to  the  mj^stically  entranced  poet,  the  beloved  one  im- 
perceptibly melts  away  into  the  All ;  or  those  incom- 
parable stanzas  of  the  two  dedications  of  the  Poems 
and  of  Faust.  I  can  only  just  mention,  in  passing, 
the  varied  grace  of  the  Venetian  Epigrams  and  of 
the  Elegies, — both  the  delicate  and  touching  Eu- 
phrosyne,  and  those  Roman  ones,  full  of  life  and 
joy,  in  which  the  German  poet,  by  a  deeper  spiritua- 
lization  of  the  classical  form,  wrestled  for  the  palm 


Appendix,  137 

with  Tibullus  and  Propertius,  conquering  them  on 
tlieir  own  soil. 


89. 

The  same  is  wont  to  be  said  of  Goethe's  Iphigenia 
as  regards  Euripides,  and  it  is  perfectly  true,  with  the 
exception  of  all  that  relates  to  the  dramatic  element 
of  the  work.  Euripides,  like  Schiller,  possessed  a 
decided  dramatic  talent,  which  Gervinus  (others 
having  attempted  to  do  so  before  him)  first  demon- 
strated as  having  been  wanting  in  Goethe.  Tlie  only 
plays  of  his  that  produce  a  thoroughly  dramatic  effect 
on  the  stage  are  Clavigo,  and  in  part  Eo-mont. 
Götz,  his  splendid  firstling,  was  disqualified  for 
representation  by  its  irregular  construction;  and 
when,  in  later  years,  Goethe  recast  the  work  for 
the^tage,  he  miserably  spoilt  'tkJbjLjbflisg  JLOMOl  * 
-eäß.  Jßt  thro^\^ik(^  himself  again  into  his  original 
mood :  and  all  these  plays,  as  well  as  the  founda- 
tion of  Egmont,  belong  to  the  earlier  portions  of  the 
poet's  life. 

His  J^ning  towards  the  ideal  classical  style, 
then,^^^rin  Weimar,  and  attained  its  consumma- 
tion in  Italy,  but  was  not  conducive  to  his  success 
as  a  dramatic  writer.  For  the  forcible  element, 
which  had  not  been  wanting  in  his  earlier  works. 


138  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New, 

now  disappeared  entirely,  and  no  complete  effect  can 
be  produced  on  the  stage  without  it.  Iphigenia, 
Tasso,  The  Natural  Daughter,  viewed  simply  as 
poems,  are  works  of  art  of  the  highest  order,  from 
their  nobility  of  tone,  their  purity  of  sentiment,  deep 
insight  into  human  nature,  architectural  symmetry 
of  structure,  and  the  melodiousness  of  their  measured 
lau'^-uao'e  ;  but  in  all  of  them  the  action  is  too  sub- 
ordinate  to  tranquil  contemplation  or  lyrical  effusion 
to  make  them  entirely  satisfactory  as  dramas. 

The  fact  of  Götz,  in  the  first  edition,  having  borne 
the  title.  The  History  of  Gottfried  von  Berlichingen 
dramatized,  is  characteristic  of  Goethe's  manner  of 
dealing  with  the  dramatic  form.  Dialogue — the  put- 
ting on  the  stage  of  various  persons,  and  letting  them 
converse — was  only  a  means  for  him  of  a  more  vivid 
presentation  of  his'  ideas ;  he  knew  well  that  in  the 
drama  this  must  be  accomplished  by  a  progressive 
action,  hurrying  on  in  successive  stages  to  the  close, 
aud  he  endeavoured  to  fulfil  this  condition  to  the 
best  of  his  power ;  but  it  was  not  an  impulse  spring- 
ing from  his  own  nature,  and  constitutes  but  the 
form,  not  the  essence,  of  his  dramatic  works. 

This  is  nowhere  more  apparent  than  in  Faust, 
which  must  not  be  judged  by  the  dramatic  stand- 
ard.     The    poetic    supremacy  of  Faust   lifts   him 


Appendix,  139 

fco  a  height  transcending  this  question  of  form,  as 
vy(ill  as  obliterating  the  offence  which  might  be  taken 
it  the  incongruities  of  the  parts,  composed  at  different 
periods  and  in  different  styles,  (incongruous  among 
themselves,  and  yet  in  the  ensemble  forming  a 
harmonious  and  attractive  whole,  like  the  different 
parts  of  the  ruins  of  the  Castle  at  Heidelberg). 
Faust  is  our  central  poem,  arisen  from  the  inmost 
individuality  of  Germanic  thought, — the  grandest, 
most  complete  attempt  to  poetically  solve  the 
enigma  of  life  and  of  the  universe, — a  poem  whose 
like  does  not  exist,  for  the  profundity  and  wealth 
of  its  ideas  bodied  forth  in  pictures  full  of  an  inde- 
scribable charm  and  pulsation  of  life.  In  saying  this 
I  certainly  only  allude  to  the  first  part  of  the  poem, 
which,  having  been  begun  in  the  best  years  of  the 
poet's  youth,  was  provisionally  concluded  in  the 
prime  of  his  manhood.  It  is  just  as  natural  that 
the  thought  of  finishing  his  chief  work  should  have 
pursued  him  through  life,  as  that,  when  at  last  as 
an  old  man  he  proceeded  to  its  execution,  he 
should  then  have  found  it  possible  to  produce  only 
a  shadowy  allegory. 

Ö0. 

Next   to  the  lyrical,  tiie   epic   talent  was   pre- 


140  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New, 

eminent  in  Goethe.  The  clear  and  tranquil  reflec- 
tion of  the  varied  beauty  of  the  world  was  as  much 
a  pai-t  of  his  nature  as  the  pure  and  powerful  lyrical 
vibration  of  a  heart  capable  of  being  easily  but 
profoundly  moved.  These  two  elements  of  Goethe's 
nature  are  most  intimately  blended  in  Werther; 
the  epistolatory  form  is  thoroughly  lyrical,  and, 
excepting  the  brief  remarks  of  the  narrator,  we  are 
only  brought  into  contact  with  the  external  and 
internal  action  through  the  medium  of  the  highly 
wrought  emotion  of  the  hero.  This  novel  acted  with 
pathological  force  on  a  period  traversed  throughout 
by  veins  of  thought  closely  allied  to  it ;  while  we, 
who  at  present  assume  a  more  independent  position 
in  this  respect,  are  first  filled  with  sympathy, 
then  transported  to  admiration  by  the  warmth, 
the  sweetness  and  depth  of  the  inner  life  which  it 
reveals  to  us,  by  the  freshness  of  its  descriptions  of 
life  and  of  nature,  by  the  magic  of  a  style  on  which 
the  dew  of  the  first  dawn  of  creation  seems  lingering 
still. 

Goethe's  chief  work  of  fiction,  however,  and  pro- 
perly speaking,  the  work  of  his  life,  is  Wilhelm 
Meister,  in  which  the  lyric  and  epic  element  part  com- 
pany in  such  wise  that  the  most  beautiful  of  songs 
evei  and  anon  float  like  tiny  sailing-craft  across  the 


Appendix»  141 

lucid,  gently  gliding  stream  of  the  narrative.     WiU 
lielm  Meister  is  not  a  work  cast  in  a  single  mould  • 
it  was  commenced  in  the  year  1777,  and  slowly  con- 
tinued ;  so  that,  perchance,  in  one  year  one  book, 
like   an  annual  ring,  was  added,  often  being  put 
aside  amid  court  amusements  and  official  work,  but 
always  resumed ;  then  at  last  quite  pushed  into  the 
background  by  the  Italian  journey,  and  the  politi- 
cal disturbances,  and  the  war  of  the  ensuing  years ; 
till  it  was  completed  in  1796— nearly  twenty  years, 
after  its  commencement.     But  as  the  poet  at  the 
same  time  enshrined  in  this  work  all  that  he  had 
experienced  and  brought  to  completion  within  him- 
self during  so  protracted  and  fruitful  a  period,  this 
novel  became,  as  Goethe  has  himself-  expressed  it, 
a  most  mysterious  production,  for  which  he  him- 
self  almost  wanted  a  key.      To   be   interrogated, 
therefore,  about  the   idea,  as   being,   so   to   speak, 
the  ao'OTeii'ate  result  or  moral  of  a  work  of  ima- 
gination, — a  thing  distasteful    to  him  at  all  times, 
was  especially  so   in   regard    to  Wilhelm  IMeister. 
"  The    central    idea    is    always    sought,"    he     re- 
marked to  Eckermann,  "and  that  is  difficult,  and 
not   even   desirable.      I  should  think  that    a    rich 
variegated  life  which  is  unrolled  before   our  eyes 
is   something  good   in    itself,  without    pronounced 


142  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New, 

tendencies  of  any  sort,  which,  after  all,  only  appeal 
to  abstract  ideas.  If  something  of  this  sort  is  abso- 
lutely required,  then  let  these  words  of  Friedrich 
suffice  :  *  Thou  seemest  to  me  like  Saul  the  son  of 
Kish,  who  went  to  seek  his  father's  asses,  and  found 
a  kingdom.'  Let  this  suffice.  For  what,  after  all, 
the  whole  would  appear  to  convey,  is  merely  that 
man,  in  spite  of  all  his  follies  and  aberrations,  yet 
led  by  a  higher  hand,  attains  a  happy  consumma- 
tion at  last."  This  may  be  more  readily  under- 
stood in  view  of  the  fact  that  Goethe  shaped  this 
work  from  matter  exclusively  drawn  from  his  own 
life. 

He  had  arrived  at  Weimar  with  the  pang  of  a 
youthful  love  in  his  heart,  and  there,  while  a 
new  social  world  burst  upon  him,  he  had  like- 
wise, through  the  Duke's  predilection  for  the 
stage,  been  brought  into  personal  relations  with 
the  theatre,  and  had  in  many  ways  interested 
himself  in  it,  both  as  a  poet  and  a  dramatic 
critic.  In  a  short  time,  however,  the  courtier 
developed  into  a  statesman,  who,  besides  shar- 
iuir  in  the  amusements  of  the  court,  took  an 
ever-increasing  interest  in  public  affairs ;  he  became 
tlioroughly  acquainted,  on  his  official  excursions, 
with   the   condition    and   wants    of    the    country, 


Appendix.  143 

actively  bestirring  himself  in  developing  its  agri- 
cultural and  industrial  resources,  in  the  profitable 
working  of  its  mines,  and  in  devising  means  for  the 
abolition  of  common  evils.  The  course  which  was 
thus  followed  by  the  poet  is  reflected  in  his  novel. 
Wilhelm,  the  son  of  a  merchant,  begins  by  becoming 
enamoured,  and  running  off  to  the  stage ;  and  while 
his  transitory  love-affairs  gradually  melt  away,  as 
step  by  step  he  discovers  how  illusive  were  his 
projects  and  ideals  of  dramatic  performance,  he 
acquires  by  the  way,  as  it  were — by  means  of  the 
acquaintances  he  forms,  and  the  social  circles  through 
which  he  passes — a  many-sided  outward  and  inward 
culture,  and  finds  himself  at  last,  in  virtue  of  his 
mercantile  success,  a  landed  proprietor,  and  adopted 
by  the  love  of  the  sister  and  the  esteem  of  the 
brother  into  an  aristocratic  family  combining  the 
most  refijied  manners  of  high  life  with  the  noblest 
simply  human  aspirations.  Thus,  then,  by  tangled 
and  often  obscure  paths,  he  has  actually  attained  to 
the  full  harmonious  development  of  his  faculties,  as 
well  as  to  the  truly  human  function  of  ministering 
to  the  happiness  of  himself  and  others,  although  in 
quite  another  direction  from  that  in  which  he  first 
went  to  look  for  it. 

This  might  have  been  taken  for  the  conclusion 


144  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New. 

of  the  novel ;    twenty  years    afterwards,  however, 
Goethe  felt  himself  impelled  to  follow  up  th«  ap- 
prenticeship of  his  hero  by  his  Wanderjahre.     But 
however   excellent   may   be   the   ideas    and   views 
which  this   sequel  contains,  and  especially  however 
much  it  attests   the   poet's  warm   interest  in  the 
social  questions  of  the  time,  nevertheless  the  equi- 
librium is  no  longer  maintained  between  the  ideas 
and  poetical  form;  there  is  an  end  of  the  interest 
we  took  in  the  persons  of  the  novel,  and  in  their 
destinies,  and  we  find  ourselves,  as  in  the  second  part 
of  Faust,  more  and  more  transported  into  a  world 
of  phantoms  and  of  symbols.     The  poetical  instinct 
is  gi^atified  in  part  by  the  novelettes  which  the  poet 
has  incorporated  with  his  novel,  the  best,  unfortu- 
nately, being  only  fragments  which  are  extracted 
by  the  reader  from   the  rest  of  the  matter,  much 
as  lia^gj).:^  children  pick  the  raisins  and  almonds 
out  of  a  töj*^**  plum-cake.     It  must  always  be  re- 
cfretted  that  Goethe,  instead  of  finishino:  such  tales 
as   The  Man  of  Fifty,  and  especially  the   charm- 
ing fragment,  Not  too  Far,  preferred  spinning  out 
his  romance  after  it  had  once  been  concluded. 

91. 

The  Elective  Affinities,   Goethe's  third  and  last 


Appendix,  45 

fiction,  written  in  his  sixtieth  year,  was  again  pro- 
duced at  a  single  jet,  and,  like  Werther,  in  con- 
sequence of  an  affaire  de  coeur.  This,  as  is  well 
known,  was  the  passionate  love  for  Minna  Herzlieb, 
enkindled  in  him  a  year  after  he  had  given  a  tardy 
ecclesiastical  sanction  to  his  union  with  Christiane 
Yulpius;  and  which,  although  at  once  vigorously 
resisted  and  mastered  by  his  strength  of  will,  for 
that  very  reason,  left  a  profound,  sorrow  in  his 
heart.  As  in  the  famous  series  of  sonnets  he 
first  gave  vent  to  his  affection,  so  long  as  he  still 
joyfully  and  innocently  )delded  himself  up  to  its 
spell,  he  now  poured  all  the  pain  which  his  struggle 
against  this  passion  caused  him  into  the  mould 
of  this  novel ;  thus  at  length  relieving  himself  in 
true  artist  fashion. 

The  Elective  Affinities  differ  from  Meister  and 
resemble  Werther  in  having  an  unhappy  passion 
for  sole  subject-matter ;  but  its  form  is  as  objective 
and  epical  as  Werther  is  lyrical  and  subjective.  If 
the  structure  of  Wilhelm  Meister  was  a  labyrinthine 
one,  not  only  in  consequence  of  the  abundance  of 
its  characters  and  situations,  but  also  on  account  of 
repeated  changes  in  the  plan  during  its  protracted 
production,  that    of  The   Elective    Affinities,    on 


146  TJie  Old  Faith  and  the  Nezü, 

the  other  hand,  is  marvellous!}^  clear  and  simple, 
every  part  being  carefully  measured  and  propor- 
tioned in  relation  to  the  rest.  The  exposition 
especially,  where,  in  the  deep  calm  of  the  com- 
mencement, a  gentle  stir  is  first  felt  in  the  air, 
which  at  first  producing  a  grateful  effect,  soon 
assumes  serious  proportions,  till  at  last  it  has  grown 
into  an  all-uprooting  tempest, — this  exposition,  we 
repeat,  is  a  masterpiece  such  as  even  Goethe  has 
never  rivalled.  Just  as  unique  is  the  style  of  The 
Elective  Affinities.  The  leading  personages  of  the 
novel  are  moved  to  the  most  passionate  pitch,  nor 
does  the  poet  conceal  his  own  profound  emotion ; 
nevertheless  his  language  preserves  its  epic  calm, 
and  by  this  self-contained  passion,  this  suppressed 
fire,  it  produces  a  marvellous  impression.  Between 
the  first  and  second  part  of  the  novel  there  is  this 
distinction, — that  in  the  second  half  an  element 
of  romanticism,  which  lay  just  then  in  the  air  sur- 
rounding the  poet,  is  introduced  in  the  person  of  the 
architect.  This  character  has  always,  and  not  un- 
justl3^,been  praised  as  a  sketch  of  peculiar  delicacy  ; 
he  introduces  us  into  the  mystical  region  of  Gothic 
chapels,  aureoles,  and  painted  windows,  of  which 
the  concluding  expression  of  the  novel, — the  point- 
ing to  a  future  awakening  of  the  lovers  now  rest- 


Appejidix.  147 

in_;^  side  by  side — is  but  a  reflex  without  real  basis 
in  the  conviction  of  the  poet,  or  of  the  reader  who 
is  on  a  par  with  his  author. 

Seldom  has  a  poet  earned  poorer  thanks  for  a 
magnificent  production  than  did  Goethe  for  The 
Elective  Affinities.  The  public  showed  no  signs  of 
comprehension;  even  his  friends  accepted  the  gift 
in  a  lukewarm  manner,  and  shook  their  heads ; 
the  malevolent,  however,  found  in  it  matter  for 
decrying  the  poet  anew.  The  subject  is  a  passion 
inherently  noble,  only  too  conceivable  in  its  origin, 
and  which  is  no  sooner  recognized  by  the  heroine 
as  incompatible  with  the  moral  law,  than  she  relent- 
lessly condemns  herself,  at  the  very  time  when 
outward  circumstances  are  on  the  point  of  3delding 
to  her — and  her  self-condemnation  brings  death  on 
her  lover  also,  who  has  not,  it  is  true,  evinced  an 
equal  degree  of  moral  strength:  yet  this  is  the 
novel  people  have  dared  to  call  immoral ! 

A  happier  fate  had,  twelve  years  before,  befallen 
a  poem  of  Goethe's,  whose  true  scope  and  worth 
it  certainly  would  have  been  impossible  to  mis- 
understand. This  was  Hermann  and  Dorothea,  in 
which,  borrowing  the  form  of  the  Homeric  epic,  he 
depicts  a  piece  of  homely  German  life  on  the  back- 
ground of  the  great  political  events  of  the  time. 


1 4  8  The  Old  Faith  and  the  N'eiv. 

Platen  justly  called  this  poem  the  pride  of  Ger- 
many,  the  pearl  of  art ;  the  hexameter  he  declared 
to  be  jolty,  which  evil  must  he  pardoned  in  a 
virtuoso.  Had  Platen  reached  man's  estate  at 
the  time  Goethe  wrote  Hermann  and  the  Roman 
Elegies,  the  latter,  who  frequently  enough  lamented 
the  unsettled  state  of  German  prosody  at  the 
time,  might  probably  have  consulted  him,  as  well 
as  A.  "W.  Schlegel,  about  his  hexameters,  and  turned 
his  advice  to  the  best  possible  account;  but  he 
would  probably  never  have  felt  any  inclination  to 
exchange  his  own  copious  negligence  for  the  meagre 
faultlessness  of  the  Count.  We  are  not  in  the  least 
astonished  at  finding  it  recorded  in  Eckermann, 
that  Goethe  in  his  latter  years  remarked  that 
Hermann  and  Dorothea  was  almost  the  only  one  of 
his  gTcater  poems  which  still  afforded  him  pleasure ; 
that  he  was  never  able  to  read  it  without  deep 
sympathy.  For  the  simpler  the  characters  and 
circumstances  of  the  personages  are,  the  more 
homely  the  expression  throughout,  the  more  pathe- 
tically moving  is  the  poem.  It  is  replete  with 
v/isdom,  with  civic  virtue  and  moral  force,  and 
must  endear  the  poet  to  many  who  cannot 
always  follow  him  in  his  other  flights  ;  while  at  the 
same  time  it  is  ranked  in  the  first  line  of  his  master- 


Appendix,  1 49 

pieces,  even  by  those  by  whom  he  is  thoroughly 
comprehended. 

92. 

Did  I  not  say  that  it  is  difficult  to  have  done 
speaking  of  Goethe  ?  Indeed  it  is  possible  to  do  so 
by  boldly  ignoring  many  things  quite  as  worthy  to  be 
dwelt  upon  as  the  works  I  have  selected.  I  will  on- 
ly speak  here  still  of  Dichtung  und  Wahrheit  and  of 
the  biographical  notes  connected  with  it,  as  well  as 
of  the  various  collections  of  letters  that  have  from 
time  to  time  appeared. 

Even  in  the  composition  of  his  autobiogi'aphy,  the 
poet  has  remained  a  poet,  as  is  sufficiently  shown  by 
the   well-known  title  ;  he  himself,  indeed,  in   some 
remark   to   Eckermann,  places   his   work   on  a  par 
with  a   novel :  he   says   that   in   the  love-story  of 
Sesenheim,  as   well   as   in    The   Elective  Affinities, 
there  is  no  stroke  that  is  not  derived  from  actual  life, 
but  neither  one  exactly  tallying  with  it :  and  that 
he   gave   his   book   that   name,   because   it  soared 
beyond  ordinary  reality  into  the  region  of  higher 
aspirations;   the  various   facts  being  only  told   in 
order  to  corroborate  higher  truths.     Thus  the  book 
has  undergone  various  rectifications  of  its  statements 
by  means  of  letters  which  have  been  published  since, 


1 50  The  Old  Faith  aiid  the  New, 

but  which  were  not  accessible  to  the  veteran  poet 
at  the  period  of  its  composition;  but  as  the  materials 
are  almost  entirely  wanting  which  would  enable  us 
to  verify  the  facts  of  Goethe's  early  youth,  it  will 
scarcely  be  possible  in  this  case  to  establish  the  ex- 
act truth,  excepting  in  so  far  as  we  ir^ay  gain  a  reflex 
light  from  his  later  poems,  and  especially  from 
Wilhelm  Meister.  The  rectifications  already  men- 
tioned chiefly  relate  to  slips  of  memory;  but 
something  else  must  still  be  taken  into  con- 
sideration here.  In  Goethe  was  exactly  the  oppo- 
site of  that  coquettish  cynicism  which  prompted 
the  author  of  the  Confessions  to  lay  bare  his  lower 
while  draping  his  higher  nature:  he,  on  the  contrary, 
veiled  that  which  shrinks  from  sight,  in  order  to 
concenti'ate  attention  on  the  humanty  significant. 

How  an  individual  of  such  and  such  gifts  develops 
gradually  in  a  given  position,  amid  fixed  surround- 
ings ;  how  he  makes  good  his  way  for  awhile,  is  then 
thrown  back  again,  is  soon  able,  however,  to  repair 
the  loss,  nay,  even  to  transform  it  into  gain;  the 
personal  relations  of  this  individual — his  parents,  his 
sisters  and  brothers,  his  first  loves ;  in  the  next 
place,  the  general  state  of  politics,  the  condition  ol 
his  native  city,  of  his  country,  of  literature  during 
his  adolescence ;  finally,  the  origin  of  his  first  works, 


Appendix.  151 

and  their  effect  on  the  public,  as  well  as  their 
reflex  action  on  the  young  author:  all  this  has 
been  depicted  by  Goethe  in  a  manner  imparting 
to  the  work  a  typical  significance  which  raises 
it  higli  above  an  ordinary  autobiography.  By 
the  privilege  of  placing  ourselves  in  sympathetic 
communion  with  an  individual  who,  protected  by 
his  Genius,  proceeds  securely  on  his  onward  path, 
who  triumphs  over  all  obstacles,  and  issues  vic- 
torious from  every  conflict  and  entanglement,  we 
are  raised  above  ourselves,  our  belief  is  streng- 
thened in  the  efficacy  of  a  pure  aspiration,  and  in 
a  world  favourable  to  it ;  and  thus  is  enkindled  in 
us,  that  ardour  of  glad  activity  which  is  at  the 
root  of  all  virtue  and  happiness.  It  may  be 
reo'retted  that  the  narrative  ends  with  Goethe's 
departure  for  Weimar;  but  it  is  very  conceivable 
that  he  can  have  felt  but  little  inclination  to  make 
his  life  at  Weimar,  on  whose  soil  he  was  still  stand- 
ing, the  subject  of  a  similar  treatment;  and  even 
this  regret  must  be  modified  by  the  consideration 
that  the  peliod  of  childhood  and  youth,  up  to  the 
commencement  of  manhood,  which,  as  reo-ards  the 
formation  of  the  individual,  is  the  most  important 
one  in  every  human  life,  was  still  fully  depicted. 
While  Goethe,  in  his  so-called   Journals  of  the 


152  Tlie  Old  Faith  and  the  New, 

Days  and  Years,  made  pencil  sketches,  as  it  were, 
of  tlie  course  of  his  life  atWeimar — more  especially 
of  its  second  half,  he  has  left  us  a  more  detailed 
description  of  his  experiences  of  foreign  travel. 
This  refers  more  particularly  to  his  Italian  journey, 
of  which  the  first  part,  consisting  entirely  of  letters 
revealing  his  earnest  aspirations,  his  mighty  pro- 
gress, and  the  happiness  lying  in  the  perception 
of  this  progress,  calls  up  an  extremely  agree- 
able picture  and  sense  of  fellow-feeling;  while, 
nevertheless,  we  cannot  refrain  from  marvelling 
how  a  mind  of  such  penetration  could  so  long  be 
blind  to  the  futility  of  his  artistic  efibrts.  The 
Campaign  in  France,  which  was  compiled  out  of 
jottings  in  a  diary  concerning  the  expedition  of  the 
year  1792,  in  Vvhich  Goethe  participated  in  company 
of  his  Duke,  has  attracted  little  notice,  and  even 
some  calumny.  He  is  accused  of  having  hushed  up 
the  serious  blunders  of  the  staff;  nay,  of  having 
falsely  attributed  the  failure  of  the  expedition  to  the 
unfavourable  state  of  the  weather.  That  the  poet 
had  only  too  clear  an  insight  into  the?e  blunders, 
is  sufficiently  apparent  to  readers  of  any  judgment; 
but  the  same  readers  will  clearly  perceive  that  it 
did  not  become  the  intimate  of  the  Duke  to  tattle 
out  of  school ;  besides  that,  they  will  easily  be  able 


Appeiidix,  153 

to  find  the  right  point  of  view,  from  which  the 
meaning  of  this  small  work  will  become  perfectly 
clear.  This  is  not  a  strategical,  or  an  historico- 
pplitical  one,  but  once  again,  in  fact,  a  poetical. 
To  pourtray  the  life  and  the  heart  of  man  is  the 
task  of  the  poet ;  very  well ;  in  case,  then,  it  should 
fall  to  his  lot  to  be  present  at  a  campaign,  he  will 
try  to  get  clear  and  distinct  impressions,  and  to 
vividly  reproduce,  on  the  one  hand,  what  is  the 
inward  feeling  of  men  amidst  the  vicissitudes  of 
war,  on  the  other,  what  kind  of  appearance  they 
outwardly  present,  into  what  groups  they  form 
themselves,  v/hat  are  the  scenes  they  display  :  and 
this,  it  appears  to  me,  Goethe  has  here  achieved 
with  a  perfection  which  may  make  the  despair  of 
a  successor 

93. 

Of  his  correspondence  Goethe  himself  still  edited 
the  richest  and  most  important  portion — that  with 
Schiller,  in  the  consciousness  of  offering  a  great  gift 
to  the  German  nation,  nay,  to  mankind.  It  required 
Börne's  vulgar  envy,  A  W.  Schlegel's  romantic 
hatred  of  Schiller,  not  to  gladly  and  gratefully  agree 
with  this  judgment.  In  more  than  one  respect  the 
correspondence  between  Goethe  and  Schiller  belongs 


154  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New, 

to  the  most  precious  relics  in  the  treasury  of  our 
nation.     It  introduces  us  into  the  laboratory  of  two 
great  men  of  genius,  who  looked  upon  their  poetic 
vocation  with  profound  earnestness ;  we  see  them 
imparting  their  opinions  and  plans  to  each  other, 
taking   counsel   about   their   works,  helping   each 
other  forward  by  mutual  understanding,  sometimes 
uniting  for  a  common  task.     We  are  exalted  and 
purified  by  seeing  two  men  who  are  incessantly 
occupied   with    the    highest    problems,    who    live 
wholly  in  the  service  of  art  and  of  humanity,  and 
who  know  how  to  deal  in  a  grand  style  with  even 
the   little  matters  of  detail  which  must  inevitably 
arise.     At  the  same  time  it  rejoices  us  to  see  how 
two  spirits  so  radically  different,  nay,  in  several  re- 
spects contrasted  to  each  other,  and  fully  conscious 
of  the  contrast,  after  having  for  some  time  held  aloof, 
as  soon  as  they  have  once  found  themselves  togeth- 
er, remain  immutably  united,  knowing  how  to  turn 
the  dissimilai-ity  of  their  natures  to  account,  and  to 
keep  their  union  living  and  fruitful  for  ten  years, 
till  it  was  severed  by  the  premature  death  of  the 
younger.     This   union,  too,  was   untarnished   by   a 
trace  of  envy  or  jealousy,  although  there  were  alwa^^s 
arising  incentives  to  it  in  the  circumstances  of  the 
one  and  the  successes  of  the  other.     It  may  appear 


Appendix.  155 

surprising,  and  lias  not  unfrequently  been  made  a  re- 
l^roacli  to  our  two  poets,  that  at  a  period  full  of 
mighty  political  change,  public  afiairs  sliould   have 
played  no  part  whatever  in  their  correspondence,  and 
especially  that  the  disastrous  war  which  led  the  Ger- 
man Empire  to  its  dissolution  is  only  commented  on 
in  so  for  as  it  interfered  with  the  publishing  trade  or 
the  convenience  of  travel,  or  was  a  source  of  disquiet 
to  their  relations  and  friends.     Only  the  latest  events 
have  enabled  us  to  judge  how  rightly  those  glorious 
spirits   appreciated  their  mission.     What  could  it 
have  availed  if  they  had  allov/ed  themselves  to  be 
drawn  into   the    political  interests  of   their  day  ? 
Here  it  might  indeed  be  said: "Let  the  dead  bury 
their  dead,  but  depart  thou  thence,  and  proclaim 
the  kingdom  of  God."  It  was  their  vocation,  un- 
deterred   by   the    irremediable    political    collapse 
around  them,  to  build  a  spiritual  tower  of  strength, 
vrherein   the    Germans,   in  acquiring  true   human 
culture,  might  one  day  learn  to  feel  themselves  one 
nation,  so  that  when  the  hour  was  ripe  they  might 
be  a  match  for  their  enemies,  as  well  as  capable  of 
erectino-  the  structure  of  a  new  German  state. 

Significant  and  attractive  in  quite  another  sense 
than  his  correspondence  with  the  poet  and  friend 


156  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New. 

of  congenial  aspirations,  are  Goetlie's  letters  to  the 
woman  wliose  strong  but  silent  influence  help- 
ed not  a  little  to  lead  him  to  that  stage 
of  inward  perfection  on  the  basis  of  which  he 
could  subsequently  meet  Schiller.  These  are  his 
letters  to  Frau  von  Stein.  These  letters  give  us 
glimpses  pregnant  with  suggestion  of  the  inner  life 
of  a  rich  and  tenderly  attuned  poet  soul,  who,  ami'l 
his  far-reaching  activity  in  the  domain  of  poetry 
and  natural  science,  of  social  life  and  public  affairs, 
yet  felt  the  constant  need  of  returning  to  the  mild 
hearth-oiow  of  a  noble  affection.  Goethe's  letters  to 
Kestner  and  Lotte,  which  were  published  by  their 
son  under  the  title  of  "  Goethe  and  Werther,"  are  an 
invaluable  supplement  to  Dichtung  und  Wahrheit. 
They  reveal  to  us  a  section  of  the  poet's  life  which 
in  the  latter  work  appeared  as  viewed  at  a  distance 
through  the  haze  of  memory  in  which  the  outlines 
melt  away  into  each  other,  but  are  now,  through 
the  new  light  of  the  letters  made  once  more  to 
stand  out  in  the  full  sharpness  of  reality.  They 
possess  the  double  significance  of  showing  us,  on  the 
one  hand,  what  was  the  actual  basis  of  Werther, 
and  thus  affording  a  palpable  example  of  Goethe's 
manipulation  of  his  materials  as  an  artist ;  on  the 
other  hand,  we  see  Goethe  the  man,  in  a  conflict 


Appendix.  I ;  7 

between  love  and  duty ;  and  here  enjoy  the  double 
satisfaction  of  finding  the  man  as  worthy  of  our 
esteem  as  the  poet  of  our  admiration. 

Goethe's  letters  to  Herder  and  Jacobi  have  this 
in  common  :  that,  commencing  in  the  tone  of  exalted 
youthful  friendship,  they  end  in  an  estrangement, 
a  separation  of  incompatible  natures.  The  corre- 
spondence with  Knebel,  on  the  other  hand,  not- 
withstanding the  latter's  touchiness  and  occasional 
ill-humour  even  v/itli  Goethe  himself,  was  carried  on 
in  gratifying  steadfastness  and  with  indestructible 
devotion  on  the  one  side,  and  .faithful  attachment 
on  both,  up  to  the  most  advanced  age  of  the  two 
friends,  of  whom  the  older  was  destined  to  outlive 
the  younger.  The  correspondence  with  Duke  Carl 
August,  in  which  the  warmth  and  outsyjokenness  of 
the  old  friendship  never  quite  disappear,  is  equally 
gratifying,  although  Goethe's  tone  in  the  course  of 
years  grows  more  formal,  and,  as  there  was  much 
business  to  discuss,  naturally  also  more  official.  In 
the  correspondence  with  Zelter,  filling  six  volumes, 
the  latter  is  at  times  too  boastful  in  his  rough 
loquacity  ;  nevertheless,  next  to  "  Eckermann's  Con- 
versations," (the  most  perfect  medium  in  which  ever 
the  utterances  of  a  master  have  been  preserved  by 
the  faithful  soul  of  the   disciple,)   it   is  the  most 


158  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New* 

indispensable  source  of  knowledge  respecting  the 
circumstances,  the  occupations,  the  criticisms,  and 
moods  of  Goethe's  old  age.  But  even  in  the  other 
collections  of  Goethe's  letters,  the  number  of  which 
continues  to  increase  almost  year  by  year,  there  is 
none — down  even  to  the  notes  to  Auguste  Stolberg, 
whom  he  had  never  seen,  or  the  hillets  doux  to  the 
beautiful  Branconi,  whom  he  had  seen  but  too  well 
— which  does  not  add  a  new,  although  apparently 
insignificant  trait,  and — most  rare  and  astonishing 
— which  does  not,  if  taken  in  its  proper  connection 
Avith  his  life,  redound  to  his  honour.  These  letters, 
together  with  Dichtung  und  Wahrheit,  have 
brought  us  into  intimacy  with  Goethe  the  man  as 
well  as  Goethe  the  poet,  taught  us  to  love  the  man 
and  made  us  unwearied  in  contemplating,  admiring, 
and  emulating,  not  only  his  works  of  literary  art, 
but  also  that  other  work  of  art — the  life  of  the  author 
— well-regulated,  rich,  not,  it  is  true,  wholly  unper- 
turbed, but  nevertheless  complete  and  harmonious. 


The  peculiar  supplemental  relation  which  the 
genius  of  Schiller  occupies  to  that  of  Goethe 
appears  from  the  first  in  this:  that  tlie  strength 
of  the  one  is  the  weakness  of  the  other.     Schiller's 


Appendix,  15g 

forte  is  the  drama,  and  here  he  excels  Goethe; 
while  the  latter,  on  the  other  hand,  has  a  supreme 
lyric  gift,  which  may  be  said  to  have  been  possessed 
in  a  comparatively  feeble  degree — so  far,  at  least,  as 
regards  the  essence  of  the  lyric  song — by  his  friend. 
And  in  the  epic  or  narrative  branch  of  poetry  Schil- 
ler's efforts  were  but  few  and  occasional. 

When  Schiller,  in  the  first  rapture  into  which  he 
had  been  thrown,  by  Mignon's  song,  in  the  eighth 
book  of  Wilhelm  Meister,  wrote  to  Körner,  "The 
fact  is,  that  in  comparison  to  Goethe  I  am,  and  must 
always  continue  to  be,  a  poetical  nobody  ! "  he  was 
justly  cautioned  by  his  friend  against  an  exaggeration 
of  modesty,  reminding  him  that  this  department  of 
poetry  in  which  Goethe  might  surpass  him,  did  not 
embrace  its  entire  sphere.  It  is  true  that  in  this  de- 
partment of  lyric  composition  in  the  most  essential 
sense,  of  which  the  parting  song  of  Mignon  is  one 
of  the  most  exquisitely  tender  examples,  Goethe 
not  only  had  the  advantage  over  Schiller,  but 
Schiller  was  not  even  to  be  compared  with  him ; 
and  the  correct  appreciation  of  this  was  expressed 
by  the  noble-hearted  poet  with  a  frankness  cor- 
responding to  his  utter  disregard  of  self.  When 
on  another  occasion,  however,  he  remarks  to  this 
same  friend,  in  regard  to  the  drama,  that  he  could 


1 60  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New. 

not  measure  himself  with  Goethe,  if  the  latter  were 
to  put  forth  his  whole  power,  and  that  if  he  had 
not  known  how  to  import  a  few  other  talents  and 
accomplishments  into  thi.s  department,  he  would 
simply  have  been-  invisible  by  his  side,  he  really 
grows  unjust  to  himself,  and  we  must  call  to 
mind  that  this  utterance  was  made  in  that  long 
interval  which  elapsed  between  the  production 
of  Don  Carlos  and  Wallenstein,  when  Schiller, 
immersed  in  historical  and  philosophical  studies, 
had  come  to  doubt  his  real  vocation.  This  he  sub- 
sequently saw  himself,  when  he  had  recovered  his 
poetical  faith  ;  and  the  state  of  the  case  is  correctly 
defined  by  him,  when,  in  criticizing  Goethe's  Iphi- 
genia,  he  pronounces  it  to  be  deficient  in  sensuous 
vigour,  in  life,  in  movement— in  fact,  in  everything 
constituting  the  truly  dramatic  character  of  a 
work;  but  he  further  says  that,  independently  of 
this  dramatic  form,  it  has  such  high  universally 
poetic  qualities,  is  a  creation  so  full  of  spiritual 
and  ethical  beauty,  that,  considered  simply  as  a 
poetical  production,  it  must  remain  invaluable  for 
all  times. 

Schiller's  lyrical  poems  owe  their  high  and  well- 
merited  fame,  not  so  much  to  their  lyrical  quality 
in  the  narrow  sense  of  the  word,  as  to  their  didactic 


Appendix,  i6i 

and  epigrammatic  elements,  as  well  as  to  their  ballad 
form.  His  youthful  love-songs  are  turgid,  while 
the  few  belonging  to  a  later  period  are  feeble  and 
insignificant;  the  light  fluent  rhythm  of  hia 
convivial  songs  is  to  some  extent  ti'ammelled  by 
the  gravity  of  the  thoughts.  He  himself  at  a  sub- 
sequent period  looked  upon  his  Ode  to  Delight  as  a 
failure,  and  was  unwilling  to  insert  it  in  the  collec- 
tion of  his  poems.  And,  in  fact,  we  need  only  com- 
pare it  to  Goethe's  Delight — I  refer  to  his  "  Mich 
ergreift,  ich  weiss  nicht  wie ! " — in  order  to  see  what 
it  is  that  it  wants.     The  Grods  of  Greece  is  a  mao-ni- 

o 

ficent  historico-religious  elegy,  giving  a  fearless  and 
musical  expression  to  that  rebuke  of  Christianity 
which  was  always  on  the  mind  of  humanism ;  but 
with  how  much  more  poetical  life  has  Goethe  treat- 
ed the  same  theme— only  incidentally,  it  is  true — 
in  the  Bride  of  Corinth  ! 

Our  two  poets  have  in  common  that  after  having 
impetuously  and  gloriously  begun  their  career,  there 
came  for  both  a  time  of  rest  and  introspection,  when, 
no  longer  satisfied  with  what  they  had  produced, 
they  aspired  to  more  consummate  purity  of  form. 
While  Goethe  endeavoured  to  attain  this  end  by 
following  in  the  steps  of  classicism,  Schiller,  along 
with  the  perusal  of  the  Greek  poets,  devoted  him- 


102  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New, 

self   to   the   study   of  philosophy,   especially  the 
philosophy  of  Kant. 

We  owe  to  these  pursuits  some  of  the  most 
valuable  of  his  prose  writings ;  his  poetry,  also,  he 
divested  by  this' means  of  its  original  wildness  and 
violence,  but  at  the  same  time  also  of  some  of  its 
freshness  and  spontaneity ;  and  had  he  not  had  the 
good  fortune,  just  on  emerging  from  this  cold  water 
cure,  to  meet  with  Goethe,  who  immediately  replaced 
him  on  the  soil  of  genuine  poetry,  this  treatment 
might  have  been  little  to  his  advantage. 

In  the  lyrical  department  this  study  bore  diverse 
fruits,  which  the  poet  himself  valued  according  to 
the  effort  which  they  had  cost  him;  a  judgment 
which,  in  view  of  the  pains  which  the  reader 
must  take  for  their  comprehension,  he  usually 
reverses.  What  trouble  did  not  Schiller  take  with 
his  poem  The  Artists,  the  weighty  thoughts  of 
which  we  prefer  to  study  in  his  aesthetic  essays, 
while,  as  regards  the  poem  itself,  we  are  entirely  of 
the  opinion  of  Wieland,  who  was  annoyed  by  the 
juxtaposition  in  it  of  poetical  and  literal  truth, 
dazzled  by  the  luxurious  transitions  from  one  image, 
one  allegory,  to  another,  and  who  would  not  acknow- 
ledge the  composition  as  a  whole  to  be  a  poem  in 
the  true  sense ;  a  criticism  which  was  ratified  by 


Appendix.  163 

Schiller  himself  in  later  years,  inasmuch  as  he  hesi- 
tated to  incorporate  the  laboured  production  with 
the  collection  of  his  poems.  The  Realm  of  Shades, 
or  as  he  later  called  it.  Life  and  the  Ideal,  the 
23oet  wished  his  friends  to  read  in  the  silence  cf 
consecrated  hours;  and  he  regarded  it  as  his  lyrical 
masterpiece.  We  admire  the  comLination  in  it  of 
abstruse  matter  with  the  perfection  of  poetical  form  ; 
but  if  we  indeed  wish  to  convince  ourselves  of  Jiis 
talents  as  a  poet,  we  are  much  more  likely  to  turn 
to  such  a  piece  as  The  Division  of  the  Earth, 
which  he  called  a  poetical  drollery ;  as  the  Nado- 
wessian  Funeral  Song,  which  Körner,  with  his  other- 
wise keen  critical  insight,  was  prepared  only  just  to 
let  pass  muster  •  as  The  Ideal,  whose  value,  besides 
the  poet  himself,  Goethe  alone  fully  recognized; 
as  The  Longing,  whose  genuine  lyrical  nature  is 
testified  by  the  predilection  which  music  has  always 
evinced  for  it. 

The  Song  of  the  Bell,  however,  is  the  crown  of 
all  Schiller's  lyrical  productions — an  instructive 
picture  of  human  life  in  all  its  diversified  circum- 
stances and  situations,  which  are  ingeniously  con- 
nected with  a  mechanical  performance ;  a  poem  at 
whose  recital,  it  is  true,  the  romantic  circle  at  the 
tea-table  of  Mme.  Caroline  Schlegel,  in  Jena,  almost 


104  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New. 

fell  from  their  chairs  with  laughter,  but  one  which 
will  continue  to  touch  and  impress  serious  uncorrupt- 
ed  men  when  the  follies  and  the  spite  of  the  Eomantic 
School  have  ceased  to  excite  laughter  or  disdain. 
This  poem,  also,  more  than  any  other,  bears  the  true 
stamp  of  Schiller's  genius ;  Goethe  could  as  little 
have  written  it  as  Schiller  could  have  written 
Hermann  and  Dorothea.  In  the  poems  of  an  elegiac 
form,  like  The  AValk,  The  Votive  Offerings,  and 
divers  epigrams,  we  also  find  an  abundance  of 
thoughts  and  ethical  truths  clothed  in  a  noble 
classical  form,  although  not  always  in  correct  hexa- 
meters and  pentameters.  Schiller's  superiority  to 
Goethe  in  epigrammatic  point  was  acknowledged 
by  the  latter  himself,  on  occasion  of  the  Xenien, 
which  they  composed  in  concert. 

95. 

Schiller's  ballads  are  brilliant  and  powerful;  a 
formal  competition  arose  in  this  department  between 
the  two  poet  friends,  towards  the  close  of  the  last 
century.  The  ballad  is  usually  described  as  the 
epico-lyric  form  of  poetry;  but  the  epic  element 
in  it  is  of  a  novel-like  character,  consisting  of  a 
single  event  of  an  extraordinary  nature,  wdiich 
must  be  powerfully  handled  in  the  narrative,  and 


Appendix,  1 65 

in  consequence  afford  scope  for  the  display  of 
dramatic  talent.  This  explains  Schiller's  preference 
for  the  ballad,  and  his  success  in  it.  But  at  the 
same  time  his  dramatico-pathetic  manner  of  con- 
ceiving such  subjects  proves  that  want  of  the 
epic  simplicity  and  naivete,  which  distinguish  the 
majority  of  his  ballads  from  those  of  Goethe. 
The  poet  has  been  especially  successful  in  those 
ballads  in  which  he  followed  the  antique,  such  as 
The  Ring  of  Polycrates,  which  is  pervaded  by 
the  genuine  sentiment  of  Herodotus ;  as  The  Cranes 
of  Ibycus,  with  which  he  incorporated  a  spirited 
paraphrase  of  an  .zEschylean  chorus ;  as  the  magni- 
ficent Celebration  of  Victory,  written  by  him  as 
a  convivial  song,  and  in  which,  as  he  remarked  to 
Goethe,  he  had  entered  into  the  full  harvest-field 
of  the  Iliad ;  or  again,  such  as  Hero  and  Leander, 
which  only  appears  a  little  too  much  overgrown 
by  mythological  phraseology.  Among  subjects  of 
a  romantic  character,  The  Diver  stands  pre- 
eminent, for  the  grandeur  of  its  descriptions  of 
Nature,  and  it  is  a  favourite  poem  for  declamation, 
because  of  the  vividness  of  its  representation; 
E-itter  Toggenburg  is  beautifully  and  simply 
told,  and  refined,  almost  too  sentimental,  in  tone ; 
The    Bail,   and    The    Journey   to   the   Forge,   are 


1 66  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New, 

dramatically  moviug,  only  tliat,  in  the  latter,  as  well 
as  in  the  Count  of  Habsburg,  the  description  of  the 
Catholic  piety  of  the  heroes  appears  somewhat 
affected  for  Schiller ;  The  Glove  is  a  splendid  piece 
of  word-painting  and  rhythm;  others  besides  the 
wicked  romanticists  have  been,  however,  bored  by 
The  Fight  with  the  Dragon,  and  its  twenty-five 
strophes  of  twelve  lines  each. 

In  the  department  of  prose  narrative,  Schiller's 
Ghost  Seer  is  the  fragment  of  a  novel  that  was 
never  completed;  The  Criminal  from  Lost  Honour 
and  The  Freak  of  Fate  are  real  events  treated  in 
the  form  of  novels.  In  the  first  fragment,  those 
parts  that  have  a  dramatic  character — such  as  the 
scenes  with  the  Armenian  and  his  juggleries — 
are  treated  in  the  most  exciting  and  moving 
manner,  but  on  the  other  hand,  there  is  a  want 
of  epic  repose  and  expansion ;  the  subject,  after  all, 
was  only  of  a  narrative  character,  and  had  Schiller 
subsequently  been  tempted  to  complete  it,  he 
would  undoubtedly  have  achieved  a  great  success. 
For  that  he  was  eminently  gifted  with  the 
narrative  faculty  is  shown  by  the  two  smaller 
lales,  which,  in  comparison  with  their  intrinsic 
merit,  have  not  been  duly  appreciated.  It  is  also 
known  to  but   few  readers   that  they,  as  well  as 


Appendix.  i  ^j 

"  The  Ghost  Seer,"  treat  of  subjects  taken  from  tlie 
contemporary  history  of  Wm-temberg,  the  events  of 
which  pervaded  the  imagination  of  the  ex-pupil 
of  the  Realschule  for  ^'^ears  afterwards,  np  to 
his  life  at  Dresden  and  the  first  period  at  Weimar. 
The  Sonnen wirth  is  a  Swabian  highwayman  still 
surviving   in  popular  tradition  ;    in    ^'  The   Freak 

of  Fate,  Aloysius  von  G and  Martinengo,  the 

two  rivals  for  the  favour  of  the  Duke  Carl,  are 
Commandant  Rieger  and  Count  Montmartin;  and 
in  like  manner  the  plot  of  The  Ghost  Seer  is  in 
outline  nothing  else  than  the  history  of  the  con- 
version to  Catholicism  of  the  Wurtemberg  Prince 
and  subsequent  Duke  Carl  Alexander  (the  father  of 
Duke  Carl),  The  inner  motives,  it  is  true,  were  not 
half  so  refined  in  actual  fact  as  the  poet  describes 
them ;  there  was,  indeed,  no  question  of  philosophj co- 
religious  scruples,  but  merely  one  of  money,  which 
was  refused  by  the  Wurtemberg  representative  to 
the  meagrely  subsidized  prince,  and,  as  was  believed, 
granted  him  by  the  Viennese  Jesuits  as  the  price 
of  his  conversion ;  but  when  in  Schiller's  story  the 
mysterious  Armenian  whispers  to  the  Prince  one 
evening  on  the  Place  of  St.  Mark  at  Yenice :  "  He 
died  at  nine  o'clock,"  it  is  an  allusion  to  the  his- 
torical circumstance  that,  in  consequence    of    the 


I C  8  The  Old  Faith  arid  the  New. 

death  of  the  Wurtemberg  heir-apparent  before  his 
father  (on  the  23rd  of  November,  1713),  Prince 
Carl  Alexander,  sprung  from  a  collateral  line,  was 
recognized  as  successor  to  the  Duchy. 

96. 

Amongst  Schiller's  dramas  I  assign  the  first 
places  to  Wallenstein,  Tell,  Cabal  and  Love,  in  the 
order  I  have  given.  Wallenstein,  like  Goethe*s 
Faust,  Meister,  Elective  Affinities,  Hermann  and 
Dorothea,  belongs  to  that  class  of  works  which  one 
ought  in  justice  to  read  once  every  year.  It  is  the 
richest,  most  vigorous,  maturest,  of  Schiller's  dramas. 
It  bears  witness  to  its  godfather :  I  mean  that  it  was 
written  during  the  first  and  freshest  period  of 
Goethe's  influence  upon  Schiller.  The  idealism  of 
the  latter  appears  thoroughly  saturated  with  the 
realism  of  the  first.  Shakspeare's  influence  likewise 
may  be  felt  in  the  breadth  of  the  delineation  as 
well  as  in  the  conception  of  the  leading  character. 
Wallenstein  is  a  Macbeth  who  is  also  a  Hamlet.  All 
kinds  of  deficiencies,  often  discussed,  are  not  want- 
ing; but  they  do  not  militate  against  the  eff'ect  of 
the  whole.  The  prelude,  Wallenstein's  Lager,  is  un- 
fortunately the  last  shoot  which  the  comic  power,  still 
so  abundant  in  The  Eobbers  and  Cabal  and  Love, 


Appendix,  1 69 

produced;  it  is  written  with  unsurpassable  ease  and 
good-humour.  The  manner  in  which,  in  the  sermon 
of  the  Capuchin  monk,  he  extracted  the  quintessence 
from  material  so  alien  to  him  as  the  sermons  of 
Father  Abraham  a  sancta  Clara,  proves,  as  does 
also  the  treatment  of  the  astrolooical  element  in 
the  tragedy  itself,  as  well  as  the  "  ^adowessian 
Funeral  Song,"  among  the  lyrical  poems  what  a 
remarkable  talent  Schiller  had  for  treating  poeti- 
cally given  subjects  in  quite  an  objective  manner, 
as  often  as  it  seemed  worth  his  while  to  subject 
himself  to  such  constraint. 

Tell  is  remarkably  fresh,  popular,  and  full  of 
local  colour.  The  opening  scene  at  the  lake  be- 
longs to  the  greatest  poetical  masterpieces  of  all 
times.  At  the  same  time,  Schiller  has  nowhere 
given  such  a  distinct  and  full  expression  to  his  ormx 
political  sympathies  as  here.  The  invention  of  the 
meeting  on  the  Rütli  is  a  stroke  of  genius.  In  the 
scene  with  the  apple  we  hold  our  breath,  so  great  is 
our  suspense.  The  unavoidable  love-story  appears, 
in  comparison  with  earlier  ones,  remarkably 
shrivelled,  and  is,  in  consequence,  relegated  to  the 
background.  Jarring,  at  times,  is  the  dissonance 
between  the  hardy  local  colour  everywhere  at- 
tempted   and    often    attained,    and    the   Hellenic 


1 70  TJie  Old  Faith  and  the  New. 

classicism  which  had  abeady  become  a  mannerism 
with  the  poet.  The  elevated  diction  of  the  scene 
between  Stauffacher  and  his  wife  in  the  first  act, 
following,  as  it  does,  immediately  on  the  popular 
opening  scene,  produces  in  this  respect  a  disagree- 
able impression  even  on  the  stage. 

In  spite  of  all  its  improbabilities,  and  what  else 
in  it  may  be  open  to  objection,  Cabal  and  Love 
is  a  piece  (one  must  see  it  acted,  however)  of  over- 
powering tragic  force.  How  spontaneous  was 
Schiller's  dramatic  talent  is  nowhere  more  apparent 
than  in  this  early  work,  which  was  as  yet  little 
influenced  by  theory.  At  the  same  time  it  contains 
a  portion  of  German  history  as  important  as  and  not 
less  vigorously  depicted  than  that  in  Wallenstein. 
As  regards  tho  characters,  that  of  the  musician 
Miller  is  simply  invaluable — a  creation  which  is 
German.  One  might  perhaps  call  it  German  in  the 
best  sense,  such  as  the  poet  never  afterwards  suc- 
ceeded in,  nay,  one  he  never  again  attempted  to 
produce. 

Of  Schiller's  other  dramas,  Fiesco  is  the  feeblest  of 
the  first  three  pieces  belonging  to  the  "  storm  and 
stress"  group,  while  The  Robbers  is  the  boldest, 
being,  nevertheless,  still  extremely  immature.  One 
is  astonished  at  the  rapidity  of  the  poet's  develop- 


Appendix,  1 7 1 

ment  in  tlie  two  or  tliree  years  which  intervened 
between  it  and  Cabal  and  Love. 

The  piece  marking  the  transition  period,  Don 
Carlos,  has  always  been  valued  very  highly  by 
me.  It  is  noble  and  touching  in  parts,  unsatisfac- 
tory as  it  is  as  a  whole.  Posa,  as  has  been 
justly  said,  is  the  prophetical  precursor  of  the 
orators  of  the  French  National  Assembly ;  and  if 
Schiller  has  put  into  his  mouth  his  own  political 
thirst  for  freedom,  he  has  again  in  Carlos  repre- 
sented his  need  of  friendship,  and  his  idealistic  love 
of  woman. 

Amongst  the  pieces  of  the  classical  period,  which 
began  with  Wallenstein,  the  poet,  evidently  fatigued 
with  the  long  heavy  task  of  the  trilogy,  took  rather 
too  little  trouble  with  the  one  that  came  next  in 
order.  Mary  Stuart  in  no  wise  gives  such  an  ex- 
haustive treatment  of  the  tragic  element  as  is 
offered  by  the  historical  situations.  It  is,  indeed, 
annoying  that  a  poet  of  Schiller's  historical  and 
political  insight  should  have  made  so  little  of 
a  character  like  Elizabeth,  and  a  statesman  like 
Burleigh.  And  his  Mary  is  a  Magdalen — but  the 
Dürers  should  leave  the  painting  of  Magdalens  to 
the  Coneggios.  Who  oould  remain  untouched, 
however,  by  the  lyrical  garden-scene  ?  and  I  would 


1 72  The  Old  Faith  and  the  Neiv, 

defend  the  quarrel   of  tlie  two   queens   from   the 
accusation  of  excessive  bkmtness. 

But  it  was,  in  fact,  a  mistalvc  of  Schiller's  to 
make  a  female  character  the  leading  figure  of  a 
drama;  for  only  occasionally,  and  in  secondary  parts, 
did  he  succeed  in  portraying  women.  His  Maid  of 
Orleans,  which  enraptured  us  all  in  our  youth, 
does  not  satisfy  the  mature  taste.  There  is  far  too 
little  naivete,  and  far  too  much  rhetoric.  The 
histoiical  character  of  Joan  is  far  more  attractive, 
far  more  poetical,  than  the  dramatic  one.  The  part 
has,  in  fact,  become  a  snare  to  our  actresses,  on 
account  of  its  declamatory  pathos.  His  idea  of 
letting  the  heroine,  in  her  effort  to  transcend 
female  nature  and  destiny,  succumb  to  an  emotion 
of  the  most  feminine  weakness,  thus  making  the 
earthly  love  triumph  over  the  heavenly,  is  excel- 
lent in  the  abstract,  but  in  execution  it  is  so  faulty 
that  it  deserves  Platen's  epigram — "  The  enthusias- 
tic virgin  who  made  desperate  haste  to  fall  in  love 
with  the  British  lord."  The  deviation  from  his-  * 
torical  truth  at  the  close  of  the  tragedy  exceeds 
the  bounds  of  what  is  allowable  in  such  matters ; 
where  the  horrible  reality  is  so  notorious,  the 
transfiguration  scene  on  the  stage  appears  like 
jugglery.     But  it  will  be  objected  that  the   trial 


Appendix,  173 

and  the  stake  could  hardly  have  been  introduced. 
Just  so  ;  just  as  little  as  the  scaffold  in  Egmont,  or 
the  wheel  in  the  Sonnenwirth;  in  both  cases,  how- 
ever, Schiller  as  well  as  Goethe  contrived  to  evade 
the  difficulty.  But  that,  on  the  other  hand,  the 
piece  teeins  with  beauties  of  all  kinds,  vdth  scenes 
of  the  most  potent  tragical  effect,  with  touches  of 
the  noblest  patriotism,  who  were  dull  enough  to 
deny  ? 

The  Bride  of  Messina  is  an  attempt  of  the  poet 
to  reform  modern  tragedy  by  the  introduction 
of  the  chorus  in  the  spirit  of  Greek  idealism.  In 
order  to  obtain  an  action  fitted  for  this  purpose,  he 
borrowed  from  the  "  Phoenissse  "  of  Euripedes,  at  one 
time  adapted  by  him,  the  inimical  brothers,  as 
well  as  the  vain  warning  of  the  oracle ;  while  he 
changed  the  horror  of  the  unwitting  espousal  of  a 
mother  into  that  of  one  of  a  sister.  But  it  is 
not  possible  thus  freely  to  imitate  the  tragic  fate  of 
(Edipus ;  the  characters,  which  are  merely  invented 
and  impersonated  for  the  sake  of  the  conflicts 
destined  for  them,  are  not  capable  of  winning  from 
us  the  sympathy  due  only  to  complete  beings  with 
characters  as  well  as  bodies ;  while  the  introduction 
of  the  choruses,  even  although,  when  effectively  re- 
cited, they  do  not  fail  of  a  certain  effect  by  the  preg- 


1/4  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New. 

nancy  of  tlie  thoiiglits  and  language,  has  neverthe- 
less, as  might  have  been  expected,  exerted  no  farther 
influence  on  the  development  of  the  modern  drama. 
Demetrius,  doubtless,  would  in  every  sense 
have  been  highly  significant ;  the  task  was  entirely 
fitted  for  Schiller  on  the  political  as  well  as  the 
psychological  side,  and  the  fragments  we  possess 
are  full  of  promise,  but  this  work  was  begrudged 
us  by  fate. 

97. 
Schiller's  historical  writings  are  mainly  valuable 
to  us  at  present,  from  their  brilliant  composition 
and  the  thoughts  interwoven  with  it ;  and  the  His- 
tory of  the  Thirty  Years'  War  is  also  relatively 
interesting  as  affording  us  an  insight  into  his 
preliminary  studies  for  poetical  productions.  On 
the  other  hand,  several  of  his  aesthetico-philosophical 
dissertations  have  a  permanent  value.  In  his 
philosophical  letters  between  Julius  and  Raphael, 
although  they  still  rest  on  the  basis  of  the  Cosmic 
conception  of  Leibnitz,  there  is,  nevertheless,  already 
a  good  preparation  for  the  pantheistic  idealism  of 
later  German  philosophy ;  the  essay  on  Naive  and 
Sentim<mtal  Poetry  has  been  tlie  basis  of  our 
modern  {esthetics;  while  the  letters  on  The  Esthetic 


Appendix,  175 

Education  of  Mankind  trace  the  ground-plan  of  a 
history  of  civilization. 

Of  Schiller's  letters,  those  to  Goethe  have  already 
been  touched  upon ;  Schiller's  correspondence  with 
Körner  is  a  pendant  to  that  of  Goethe  with  Frau 
von  Stein :  these  friendships  in  both  cases  exercised 
an  abiding  influence  on  the  development  of  the 
poets ;  and  with  Körner 's  faithful,  sensible,  and 
sincere  answers,  are  indispensable  to  a  fuller  insight 
into  the  essence  and  aspiration  of  Schiller's  nature. 
In  proportion  to  the  importance  of  the  expositions 
which  on  both  sides  we  find  in  the  correspondence 
between  Schiller  and  Wilhelm  von  Ilumboldtj  must 
be  our  regret  that  in  consequence  of  unfavourable 
accidents  it  has  been  preserved  in  such  a  fragment- 
ary condition.  In  Schiller's  letters  to  his  familj^, 
we  see  the  latter  as  well  as  himself,  in  the  relations 
of  son  and  brother,  in  the  most  honourable  light ;  in 
those  to  Fichte  and  A.  W.  Schlegel  we  perceive  him 
where  he  deemed  it  needful,  manifesting  an  uncom- 
promising plainness  and  sternness  bordering  on  harsh- 
ness ;  but  at  the  same  time  his  remarkable  aptitude 
for  business  is  shown  in  them  ;  in  the  letters  to 
young  Yoss,  who  was  intimate  with  him  in  the  last 
year  of  his  life,  he  appears  most  amiable  in  every- 
day intercourse ;  and  lastly,  Schiller's  flight  from 


176  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New. 

Stuttgart  and  residence  in  Mannheim,  bj  Streicher, 
is  a  tender  idyl  recorded  by  the  hand  of  this  faithful 
friend  of  his  youth. 

"You  are" — Wilhelm  von  Humboldt,  in  the  year 
1803,  wrote  to  Schiller  from  Rome — "you  are  the 
happiest  of  men.  You  have  chosen  the  highest,  and 
you  possess  the  strength  to  adhere  to  it.  It  has 
become  your  home,  and  not  onh^  does  common  life 
not  disturb  you  in  it,  but  into  the  life  of  every  day 
you  import  out  of  the  better  life  a  goodness,  a  gen- 
tleness, a  limpidity,  and  warmth,  which  unmistakably 
reveal  their  origin.  As  your  ideas  have  taken  a 
firmer  consistence,  as  you  have  attained  to  greater 
security  in  production,  this  power  has  increased  also. 
All  that  one  need  pray  for  you  from  Fate  is  life. 
Power  and  youth  are  necessarily  yours.''  But  life 
forsook  the  beloved  man  scarcely  a  year-and-a-half 
after  his  friend  had  thus  written  to  him  ;  power  and 
youth,  however,  have  faithfully  adhered  to  him,  and 
through  his  poems  continue  to  exert  an  influence 
on  all  coming  time. 


n.— OF  OUR  GEE  AT  COMPOSEES. 

98. 
IVTEXT  to  poetry,  no  art  is  so  profoundly  important 
to  the  inner  life  of  man  as  music.  And  in 
relation  to  it  also  we  Germans  enjoy  a  peculiar  ad- 
vantage. In  the  domain  of  poetry  we  found  such 
an  advantage  arising  from  the  capacity  of  our  lan- 
guage, by  faithfully  reproducing  the  original,  to  fa- 
miliarize us  with  the  poetical  productions  of  all  times 
and  nations  as  if  they  had  been  native  works.  Mu- 
sic is  the  universal  speech,  which  requires  no  trans- 
lation. But  it  is  nevertheless  a  national  growth, 
and  the  German  people  stand  in  a  peculiarly  close 
relation  to  it. 

All  the  more  highly  civilized  nations  of  the 
ancient  as  well  as  the  modern  world  have  their 
share  in  poetry:  England  may  compete  with 
Greece,  Spain  with  Germany,  for  poetical  prece- 
dence. Of  music  it  is  sometimes  said,  that  just  as 
the  ancient  Greeks  excelled  in  the  plastic  arts,  sc 
the  Italians  of  more  modern  times  excelled  in  music 

VOL.  IL  Ä 


1 7  8  TJie  Old  Faith  and  the  ISiew, 

Italy,  certainly,  was  its  cradle,  but  it  attained  per- 
fection in  Germany.  Whether  Goethe  is  the  equal 
of  Homer,  Sophocles,  Shakspeare,  may  be,  and  is, 
matter  of  dispute ;  but  it  is  a  settled  thing  with 
judges  in  the  matter  that  Mozart  has  not  his  equal 
in  the  world.  Our  neighbours  on  the  other  side  the 
Alps  are  the  nation  of  melody :  all  that  can  be 
achieved  in  that  direction  has  been  achieved  by 
them.  But  melody,  and  all  that  belongs  to  it,  is 
only  the  exterior  form  of  music.  The  essence  of 
music  is  the  soul,  the  heart  of  man.  If,  therefore, 
the  natural  capacity  for  melody  as  well  as  imagina- 
tion be  not  wanting,  the  people  of  most  soul  and 
heart  will  be  the  one  which  has  the  highest  voca- 
tion for  music.  This  the  Italians  are  not.  In  fact, 
we  must  not  look  for  it  among  the  Latin  races. 
Are  we  Germans  this  people  ? — let  the  history  of 
music  reply.  ^^x 

Bach,  as  well  as  Handel, ^jJä^ formed  by  Italian 
music,  the  one  by  persistent  study,  the  other  in  its 
native  country ;  but  they  gave  us  something  quite 
dilierent  from  what  they  had  received.  It  is  sig- 
nificant that  these  two  patriarchs  of  German  music 
belong  to  North  Germany  and  Protestantism.  The 
inheritors  and  completers  of  their  work  were  all 
Catholics.     While  Germany  owes  its  classical  litera- 


Appendix,  17g 

fcure  exclusively  to  the  Reformation,  its  classical 
music  is  the  gift  of  its  Catholic  districts.  The 
Catholic  Church  has  at  all  times  been  a  nursery  of 
this  art,  on  account  of  the  musical  element  which 
pervades  its  system  of  worship.  In  this  the  Protes- 
tant countries  were  at  a  disadvantage.  In  order  to 
make  music  German,  however,  Protestautism  was 
nevertheless  requisite.  However  alien  may  be  to 
us  at  present  the  devotion  of  Bach's  Passion-music 
as  regards  its  dogmatic  basis,  in  the  almost  re- 
pulsive austerity  of  its  form,  we  are  nevertheless 
even  now  touched  to  the  core  of  our  German  nature 
by  the  profound  piety  of  the  sentiment,  which  is  not 
merely  ecclesiastical  but  personal.  If  we  may  call 
Bach  our  musical  Dürer,  Handel  in  some  respects 
reminds  us  of  Holbein.  He  introduces  the  fulness 
of  individual  life,  as  well  as  rich,  powerful  exe- 
cution, into  our  music.  Under  the  guidance  of  such 
predecessors  it  was  afterwards  possible  for  the 
great  consummators  of  their  task  to  assert  the 
independence  of  German  music,  and  its  superiority 
to  the  Italian. 

Of  these  two  old  masters  I  will  not,  however, 
speak  here;  although  both  are  at  present  made 
familiar  to  the  people  in  the  most  satisfactory  fashion 
by  numerous   representations,  especially  given  by 


l8o  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New. 

dilettanti  societies.  They  belong,  after  all,  with 
their  whole  manner  of  conceiving  and  feeling,  to  a 
time  into  which  we  may  occasionally  let  onrselves 
be  transported,  but  with  which  we  have  no  longer 
any  positive  affinity.  I  will  only  speak  of  those 
who,  like  om^  literary  classics  from  Lessing's  time, 
have  gradually  led  the  way  to  the  present  state  of 
cm"  culture. 

99. 
Speaking  of  Lessing,  Gluck  is  his  musical  coun- 
terpart. His  epoch-marking  creations  arc  the  result' 
of  critical  thought.  And  as  Lessing's  criticism  was  di- 
rected against  the  French  drama,  so  was  Gluck's 
criticism  directed  against  the  Italian  opera.  He  had 
himself  already  written  a  series  of  operas  in  the  usual 
Italian  style,  which,  although  satisfactory  to  the  pub- 
lic, were  less  and  less  so  to  himself.  The  entire  genius 
of  Italian  opera,  in  his  view,  was  deficient  in  truth. 
The  opera,  according  to  him,  should  not  merely  be  a 
concert  costume,  but  an  actual  musical  drama. 
Music  should  depend  upon  action,  and  be  expressive 
of  character  and  situation.  In  this,  Handel,  with- 
out the  help  of  the  stage,  had  achieved  great  things 
in  his  oratorios.  Gluck  had  already  reached  his  forty- 
eighth  year  when  he  made  his   first  reformatory 


Appendix,  1 8 1 

attempt  at  Vienna,  witli  his  Orpheus  and  Eurydice, 
and  his  fifty-fifth  year  when  his  second  was  made 
at  the  same  place  in  Alceste.  The  success  corre- 
sponded so  little  with  his  expectations  that  he  found 
himself  compelled  to  return  for  a  time  to  the  old 
Italian  manner. 

But  the  turn  which  things  were  now  to  take  is  a 
splendid  proof  that  no  nation  ought  to  imagine  that 
it  can  dispense  with  its  neighbours,  or  its  own 
obligations  to  them.  We  are  too  prone  to  dwell 
only  on  what  we  have  sufiered  from  our  neigh- 
bours, and  to  forget  what  we  have  received  from 
them.  We  Germans  are  still  more  ready  to  ac- 
knowledge a  debt  to  Ene'land  than  one  to  France. 
Bu  t  yet  it  is  so ;  if  England  gave  our  Handel  scope 
for  the  representation  of  his  great  oratorios,  Gluck 
had  to  go  to  Paris  ere  he  could  achieve  the  reform 
of  the  opera.  The  very  fact  that  the  French  were  a 
less  musical  people  than  the  Italians,  while  yet  their 
taste  at  that  time  was  already  more  independently 
developed  than  that  of  the  Germans,  still  entirely 
under  the  influence  of  Italian  music,  rendered  them 
mere  accessible  to  the  intentions  of  Gluck.  Action 
was  the  leading  feature  of  their  opera,  music  being 
entirely  subordinate  to  it;  and  the  vocal  element 
especially  was  in  a  miserable  plight.     Here,  Gluck 


1 82  The  Old  Faith  a7id  the  N'ew, 

could  find  a  starting-point,  inasmuch  as  he  gave  a 
fuller  development  to  the  musical  element,  while 
strictly  adhering  to  the  character  of  the  action.  In 
177-i,  his  Iphigenia  in  Aulis  was  brought  on  the 
stage  at  Paris,  and  five  years  afterwards  Gluck, 
then  in  his  sixty-fifth  year,  lived  to  enjoy  his  last 
and  greatest  triumph  in  the  representation  of  Iphi- 
genia in  Tauris  in  the  French  capital. 

In  this  also  Gluck  reminds  one  of  Lessing, — that 
as  regards  the  richness  and  abundance  of  his  musical 
genius  he  lags  as  far  behind  Haydn  and  Mozart  as 
Lessing  does  behind  Goethe  and  Schiller  in  creative 
power.  But  this  want  is  compensated  by  the 
greatness  of  his  aims,  the  height  to  which  he  soars. 
It  was  customary  in  the  Italian  opera  to  take  sub- 
jects from  Greek  mythology  and  tragedy.  More- 
over, Gluck  was  attracted  to  these  by  an  inner 
affinity.  He  required  that  his  subjects  should 
possess  a  character  of  elevation,  and  be  capable  of 
being  inspired  by  profound  sentiment.  In  both 
these  characteristics  the  contemporary  and  admirer 
of  Klopstock  revealed  himself  Next  to  their  ele- 
vation his  operas  are  marked  by  a  certain  elegiac, 
sometimes  almost  a  sentimental  trait.  Orpheus,  who, 
bearing  his  lyre,  descends  into  Orcus  to  recover  his 
ravished  spouse  from  the  nether  powers  ;  Alcestis,  in 


Appendix.  183 

place  of  her  liusband  taking  upon  herself  the  doom 
of  death ;  Iphigenia,  who,  in  obedience  to  a  higher 
will,  renounces  an  exalted  love  in  order  to  be  led 
to  the  sacrificial  altar;  and  again  later,  alone  on 
the  inhospitable  shore,  saves  her  brother's  life, 
and  dispels  the  curse  which  rests  on  the  house 
of  the  Atrid^e ;  Armida  next,  abandoned  by  her 
Kinaldo,  rent  by  the  painful  conflict  between  re- 
vengeful pride  and  inextinguishable  love  :  —  such 
are  the  legends  into  which  Gluck  poured  the  whole 
sublimity  of  his  soul,  the  whole  depth  of  his  emo- 
tion. At  the  same  time  he  displays  a  simplicity  in 
the  choice  of  his  means,  a  chastity  which  not  only 
heightens  the  effect,  but  sheds  a  peculiar  solemnity 
on  his  creations.  After  Schiller,  in  the  winter  of 
1800-1,  had  witnessed  the  representation  of  Iphi- 
genia in  Tauris  at  Weimar,  he  wrote  to  Körner : 
*'  Never  has  any  music  affected  me  so  purely,  so 
supremely,  as  this ;  it  is  a  world  of  harmony 
piercing  straight  to  the  soul  and  dissolving  it  in 
the  sweetest,  loftiest  melancholy."  Two  kindred 
geniuses  had  touched  each  other  here. 

100. 

If  it  is  impossible  to  know  Gluck  without  rever- 
ence, it  is  just  as  impossible  to  know  Haydn  with- 


1 84  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New. 

out  love.  In  this  he  has  something  in  common  with 
AYieland  ;  only  that  he  is  incomparably  greater  in 
his  art.  He  is  not  only  more  productive  than  even 
the  prolific  Wieland,  but  much  more  original 

Gluck  almost  restricted  himself  to  the  develop- 
ment of  the  resources  of  the  opera  Haydn's  favourite 
domain  was  orchestral  and  pianoforte  music,  the  first 
incitement  to  and  instruction  in  which  he  derivedfrom 
the  compositions  of  Emanuel  Bach,  then  from  those  of 
the  great  Sebastian.  One  hundred  and  eighteen  sym- 
phonies and  eighty-three  quartetts  of  his  composition 
have  been  enumerated,  hardly  the  fourth  part  of  which 
is  ever  performed  at  our  concerts  and  musical  soirees. 
There  is  a  great  difference  also  in  their  intrinsic  value, 
as  Haydn  was  in  the  first  place  obliged  to  deter- 
mine the  precise  forms  of  the  quartett  and  the  sym- 
phony, in  bringing  which  to  perfection,  as  well  as  in 
his  own  artistic  development  generally,  he  laboured 
incessantly  up  to  a  most  advanced  age  ;  and  yet, 
whenever  something  laid  aside  is  performed  anew, 
we  always  have  reason  to  consider  it  as  a  gain. 
Every  one  of  these  pieces  has  some  individual  feature 
of  its  own,  and  yet  they  all  unmistakably  bear  the 
impress  of  Haydn's  genius.  This  distinctive  charac- 
ter consists  principally  in  their  health,  freshness, 
and  cheerfulness.     Welling   up  in   Haydn's   music 


Appendix,  1 85 

is  a  fountain  of  perpetual  youth  for  our  nervous 
and  excited  age,  which  reveals  this  morbid  tendency 
eminently  in  its  musical  taste.  And  not  only, 
should  the  audiences  make  pilgrimages  to  his 
music,  but  still  more  the  composers.  They  ought 
not  only  to  hear  with  their  ears,  but  let  the  heart 
and  spirit  be  purified  in  the  school  of  the  excellent 
old  master,  who  was  quite  unconscious  of  all  this 
vain  striving  for  brilliant  effects.  But  then  he 
certainly  did  not  need  it,  as  thoughts  literally 
came  pouring  in  upon  him.  He  sometimes  starts 
in  pursuit  of  a  happy  conceit,  but  is  never  diverted 
by  it  from  what  he  has  actually  in  hand.  Below 
the  playfully  sparkling  surface,  there  is  everywhere 
with  him  the  most  thorough  and  precisely  ordered 
plan.  HIg  humour  never  degenerates  into  whim'; 
he  may  take  us  by  surprise,  yet  he  never  entirely 
disconcerts  us.  How  full  of  life  and  vigour  are  his 
allegros ;  what  sweetness  of  sentiment,  without 
any  sentimentality,  is  there  in  his  adagios  or  an- 
dantes !  but  he  is  quite  unrivalled  in  the  lively 
roguishness,  the  humorous  delight  of  the  minuett. 
"When  a  symphony  by  Haydn  is  announced  on  the 
programme  of  a  concert,  one  may  safely  go  certain 
of  not  being  disappointed,  unless  it  should  be  by 
the    execution.     For  in  this  respect   it  is   indeed 


J  86  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New, 

quite  possible  for  precisely  the  so-called  better 
orchestras  to  prove  the  worst.  They  are  fond  of 
displaying  effective  passages,  startling  variations 
in  tone  and  time — the  sole  principle  often  of  many 
of  our  newer  compositions ;  but  this  is  a  class  of 
compositions  which  can  only  be  duly  rendered 
by  the  very  simplest  execution. 

The  master  was  already  in  his  sixtieth  year 
when  he,  having  before  principally  applied  him- 
self to  instrumental  music,  turned  his  attention 
to  the  oratorio,  and  for  the  first  time  produced 
that  which  has  become  the  chief  cause  of  his  popu- 
larity among  us.  Who  has  heard  his  Creation, 
his  Seasons,  without  being  delighted,  invigorated 
by  them  in  his  inmost  heart  ?  Our  Schiller,  it 
seems,  writes  to  Körner :  "  On  New  Year's  Eve 
(1801)  Haydn's  Creation  was  given,  which,  how- 
over,  pleased  me  but  little,  on  account  of  its  un- 
meaning hodge-podge."  A  great  man  like  Schiller 
has  a  right  to  be  one-sided ;  he  writes  this  in  the 
same  letter  containing  also  the  beautiful  passage 
about  Gluck's  Iphigenia.  And  the  one  passage  is 
a  key  to  the  other.  He  only  knew  how  to  rightly 
appreciate  the  one  of  the  two;  we  will  rejoice  in  them 
both,  and  in  the  sublime  puritan  Schiller  as  well. 
This  censuring  criticism  referred,  doubtless,  to  the 


Appendix,  187 

musical  descriptions  in  Haydn's  oratorio.  But  we 
may,  nevertheless,  suppose  that  he  listened  approv- 
ingly to  the  sublime  ones  among  them,  such  as  the 
creation  of  light,  the  majestically  journeying  sun, 
the  moon's  silent  course,  as  well  as  to  the  tidal 
thunder  of  the  sea,  and  the  meanderimr  motion  of 
hurrying  streams.  But  then,  when  following  on 
this,  you  heard  the  cooing  of  a  pair  of  turtle-doves, 
the  warbling  of  a  nightingale,  and  now  the  roaring 
of  the  lion,  then  the  lithe  spring  of  the  tiger ;  when 
the  stag  was  supposed  here  to  lift  his  pronged 
antlers  on  high,  while  there  the  reptiles  crept  on 
the  ground, — these  little  Noah's  ark  pictures,  so 
amusing  to  us  other  children,  were  too  much  for 
Schiller's  lofty  gravity.  The  same  was  the  case 
with  Beethoven,  who,  as  we  know,  was  fond  of 
ridiculing  them.  Both  were  simply  deficient  in 
humour.  Schiller  would,  nevertheless,  have  hesi- 
tated to  call  the  whole  work  a  hodge-podge,  if  he 
had  heard  it  more  than  once.  The  rich  variety 
of  the  details  is  bound  firmly  together  by  its  under- 
lying unity  of  mood.  This  pervading  mood,  which 
imparted  its  character  to  the  music,  is  a  pious 
delight  in  life  and  Nature,  which,  descending 
on  the  one  hand  to  the  meanest  of  the  creatures, 
rises  on  the  other  in   praise  of  the  Creator ;    and 


I S8  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New. 

thus  also  the  various  pictures,  as  they  unroll  them- 
selves, are  externally  framed  in  the  recitative  and 
aria  of  the  choruses,  which  are  conceived  in  such  a 
manner  as  to  express  this  genera]  mood. 

In  comparing  Haydn's  Creation  with  Handel's 
oratorios,  we  shall  find  that  the  difference  which 
exists  between  them  in  subject-matter  and  treat- 
ment is  not  only  characteristic  of  the  peculiarities 
of  the  two  masters,  but  shows  us  also  how  much 
the  times  had  altered  in  the  meanwhile.  There 
(besides  various  other  historical  subjects  taken 
principally  from  the  Old  Testament)  Ave  have  the 
Messiah,  i.e.,  the  redemption,  here  ithe  Creation; 
there  the  second  person  of  the^j^^^l^'j  here  the  first. 
Graun  had  already  chosen  the  death  of  Jesus  as  a 
subject  for  an  oratorio;  Haydn  himself  composed, 
as  a  commission  from  a  Spanish  Canon,  the  seven 
sayings  spoken  on  the  cross ;  the  Creation  he 
composed  at  the  bidding  of  his  own  spirit  and  that 
of  the  times.  Forgotten  are  the  crucifix  and  the 
sacrificial  death,  with  its  pains  and  terrors;  with 
purged  eyes  man  turns  himself  towards  the  world 
and  Nature,  whence  he  at  last  sees  the  first  human 
pair  step  forth  fresh  and  unspoilt,  destined  not 
to  penance  but  to  humanity.  And  although 
Haydn,  either  in  his  talent  or  his  subject,  does  not 


Appendix,  1 89 

come  up  to  his  great  precursor  in  depth  and  sub- 
hmity^  he  enchants  us  all  the  more  by  his  grace 
and  variety,  which,  however,  are  by  no  means 
deficient  in  strength  and  enthusiasm. 

101. 

The  gifted  enthusiast,  UJibischeff,  regards  Mozart, 
m  his  well-known  work,  as  the  genius  sent  on 
earth  by  providence  to  be  the  bearer  of  the  highest 
musical  revelation ;  in  consequence  of  which  every- 
thing was  prepared  designedly  for  him,  even  down 
to  the  successive  bestowal  upon  him  of  the  texts  of 
his  operas,  in  the  order  most  serviceable  to  him  as 
occasions  for  the  unfolding  of  his  inward  glory. 
This,  although  greatly  exaggerated,  is  yet  by  no 
means  so  senseless  as  it  seems.  Otto  Jahn,  who  has 
superseded  the  work  of  the  enthusiastic  admirer 
by  one  of  scientific  research,  himself  a  native  of 
Schleswig-Holstein,  and  assuredly  no  enthusiast, 
gives  substantially  a  scarcely  different  account. 
ivlozart  and  music  are  in  a  manner  synonymous — an 
exactly  similar  example  of  the  kind  not  existing 
either  in  the  domain  of  this  or  of  any  other  art. 

Mozart^  unlike  his  immediate  precursors,  unlike 
Bach  and  Handel,  or  Goethe  and  Sophocles  among 
poets,  does  not  belong   to   those  patriarchs  of  art 


I  go  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New, 

who,  at  an  advanced  age,  lie  down  to  rest  at  last 
satiated  with  life,  after  a  long,  laborious,  and  pro- 
ductive existence.  He,  like  Raphael,  is  one  of 
those  wondrous  youths  in  the  history  of  art  who, 
after  showering  a  profusion  of  the  most  glorious 
gifts  upon  mankind  within  the  space  of  a  few 
years,  appear  as  if  consumed  by  the  flame  of  their 
genius,  or,  as  if  too  delicately  fashioned  for  this 
coarse,  rude  world,  are  ravished  hence  already  at 
the  threshold  of  manhood.  And  Mozart  shares  at 
last  with  Raphael,  not  merely  the  outward  similarity 
of  their  fates,  but  he  has  it  in  common  with  him 
in  his  essential  nature,  that  with  all  their  profusion 
and  range  of  talents,  their  proper  home  is  yet  in  the 
domain  of  peace,  harmonious  beauty,  the  true  core 
of  art. 

It  is  well  known  that  Mozart  was  a  precocious 
musical  prodigy,  and — here  we  have  at  once  what 
served  Ulibischeff  for  a  handle — fate  had  allotted  a 
father  to  this  child  than  whom  none  could  have 
been  selected  more  excellently  adapted  for  the 
development  of  his  talent  and  the  preservation  of 
his  heart.  Leopold  Mozart  was  a  thorough  and  versa- 
tile musician,  a  methodical  teacher,  and  an  honour- 
able, sensible  man.  When  the  boy  was  six  years 
old,  he  took  him  on  his  first  musical  tour  to  Yienna; 


Appendix,  I9I 

at  eight  he  brought  him  to  Paris  and  London,  at 
fourteen  to  Italy,  where  his  first  opera  was  brought 
out  at  Milan.  Everywhere  the  youthful  genius 
eagerly  absorbed  all  the  materials  of  culture  which 
offered  themselves  to  it,  at  the  same  time  that, 
with  the  astounding  rapidity  of  its  growing  power, 
it  revealed  itself  in  a  series  of  compositions  for  church 
and  theatre,  piano  and  orchestra,  simply  embracing 
the  whole  range  of  the  art. 

Then  in  the  year  1781,  in  the  twenty-fifth  year 
of  his  life,  begins  his  great  decade — for  by  1791  he 
was  no  more, — during  which  period  Mozart  created 
in  rapid  succession  those  immortal  works  which 
rival  the  greatest  and  supremest  creations  ever  pro- 
duced by  the  spirit  of  man  in  any  department  of 
art.  Idomeneus  opens  the  series  of  these  master- 
pieces, which  is  concluded  by  the  Zauberflöte  and 
the  Requiem.  Between  these  we  have  the  Elope- 
ment from  the  Seraglio,  the  Marriage  of  Figaro, 
Don  Giovanni,  Cosi  fan  tutte,  and  Titus,  seven 
symphonies,  variou-i  quartetts,  and  a  multitude  of 
smaller  compositions,  each  important  and  valuable 
in  its  kind, 

102. 
I  will  only  say  a  few  words  about  the  supreme 


192  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New 

triad    of    Mozart's    operas — that    is,   Figaro,    Don 
Giovanni,  and  the  ZauberUote. 

Ulibischeff  justly  regarded  the  first  of  these 
operas  as  that  by  which  Mozart — although  Ido- 
nieneus  and  The  Elopement  had  still  been 
masterpieces — approved  himself  master.  For  the 
most  difficult  of  imaginable  tasks  has  here  been  most 
completely  solved.  The  French  comedy  of  Beau- 
marchais, exclusively  adapted  by  the  understand- 
ing for  the  understanding,  inspired  by  social 
exasperation  and  governed  by  political  tendencies, 
was,  in  spite  of  the  couplets  interspersed  in  it,  very 
far  from  having  any  affinities  with  music.  None 
of  the  persons,  in  fact,  merit  our  sympathetic 
interest;  even  the  virtue  of  the  plebeian  couple, 
which  is  to  be  magnified  in  contrast  to  the  higher 
classes,  is  very  threadbare.  Da  Ponte  was  un- 
doubtedly a  clever  librettist ;  he  did  what  he  could 
to  extract  musical  situations  from  the  play.  Even 
thus,  however,  the  characters  and  their  actions 
were  sufficiently  ordinary.  But  it  was  impossible 
for  Mozart  to  look  at  a  text  without  ennobling  it, 
or  at  a  character  without  breathing  a  finer  soul 
into  it.  Mozart's  parts  should  not  only  "be  sung, 
but  acted  by  the  players  according  to  his  notes : 
but  they  are  usually  performed  to  suit  the  text  and 


Appendix,  1 03 

thus  remain  far  below  Mozart's  intentions.  If  one 
carefully  goes  over  Figaro,  bar  by  bar,  each  will 
be  found  equally  complete ;  it  is  quite  possible  to  be 
more  specially  attracted  by  one  than  by  another, 
but  the  admiration  for  the  master  is  always  the 
same.  And  the  overture  is  just  as  perfect.  Not  a 
single  melody  of  the  opera  is  introduced,  and  yet 
it  tells  us  exactly  what  we  have  to  expect;  its 
roguish  playfulness,  its  nimble  twisting  and  turn- 
ing and  catching  up  again,  announce  the  merry 
comedy  of  intrigue. 

Far  better  adapted  to  musical  purposes  was  the 
fable  of  Don  Giovanni ;  but  although  it  gave  to  art 
fewer  difficulties  to  solve,  it  put  genius  to  the  most 
decisive  test.  Don  Giovanni  has  not  without  reason 
been  called  the  musical  Faust.  Here  the  Eo-o. 
which  with  an  originally  noble  impulse,  would  first 
break  through  the  limit  of  human  knowledge,  and 
then,  breaking  through  that  of  the  moral  law,  causes, 
unutterable  misery;  there  the  individual  who,  im- 
moderately yielding  himself  to  the  most  beautiful  of 
impulses,  first  sets  custom  at  defiance,  then  con- 
science, then  the  moral  order  of  the  world.  In  both 
cases  a  subject  Avhich  shakes  the  confines  of  mortal- 
ity, of  the  finite  world,  and  which  in  consequence 
could  only  have  been  victoriously  treated  by  a  genius 


194  ^^-^^^  ^^^^  Faith  and  the  Nezv. 

whose  own  wondrous  gifts  touched  on  those  con- 
fines. This  was  achieved  by  Mozart  on  the  one 
hand,  by  Goethe  on  the  other;  and  it  is  a  tri- 
umph of  modern  art,  and,  moreover,  of  German  art, 
these  tasks  were  solved  with  equal  completeness 
in  recent  times,  and  both  of  them  by  Germans. 
But  so  much,  and  such  excellent  things,  in  part,  have 
already  been  written  about  Mozart's  Don  Giovanni, 
that  I  may  well  dispense  with  any  further  remarks 
on  the  subject. 

According  to  the  usual  idea,  we  descend  several 
steps  in  proceeding  from  Don  Giovanni  to  the  Zau- 
berfiöte ;  and  how,  it  is  said,  if  anything  more  is  to 
follow  after  such  a  work,  could  it  be  other  than  a 
descent  ?  I  am  of  opinion,  however,  that  from 
Figaro  to  the  Zauberflöte  (leaving  Cosi  fan  tutte 
and  Titus  aside  in  this  case)  there  is  neither  de- 
scent nor  ascent,  but  that  they  are  all  of  them  on 
the  same  elevated  level.  Or  rather,  each  of  these 
three  operas  surpasses  the  other  in  a  particular 
direction;  each  of  them  is  the  best  in  a  certain 
sense.  In  the  evenness  of  execution,  in  the  per- 
fection of  all  its  parts,  in  the  grace  that  is  shed  over 
the  whole,  there  is  nothing  to  surpass  Figaro.  In 
the  profusion  of  its  life,  the  variety  of  its  sentiments, 
the  force  of  its  passions,  and  the  sublimity  of  the 


Appendix,  ig^ 

idea,  Don  Giovanni  is  unrivalled.  Alas  !  what  then 
shall  we  have  left  to  say  of  the  poor  Zauberflöte  ? 
Is  it  not  known  that  Mozart  composed  it  to  please 
Schikaneder,  his  brother  in  jovialit}^,  the  author  of 
the  text  that  has  been  so  much  ridiculed  ?  and  does 
not  even  UlibischefF  in  this  instance  find  his 
admiration   curtailed   to    the    extent    of    dividino- 

o 

those  scenes  where  we  have  the  entire  Mozart  from 
those  parts  of  the  opera  which  he  is  supposed  to 
have  written  according  to  Schikaneder's  idea  ?  But 
his  faith  in  Providence  does  not  on  that  account 
forsake  him ;  on  the  contrary,  it  is  exactly  in  the 
nature  of  this  libretto  that  Ulibischeff  discerns  its 
special  interposition  on  Mozart's  behalf.  For  he 
deems  that  it  provided  its  chosen  one  this  time  with 
so  sorry  a  text,  so  absurd  a  fable,  whence  not  even 
matter  for  an  overture  could  be  drawn,  in  order  to 
force  him  to  the  production  of  an  overture  which, 
unique  of  its  kind,  should  entirely  rest  on  itself  by 
means  of  a  fugue  theme.  But  then,  how  strange  ! 
Whence  has  the  overture  derived  its  three  trombone 
tones,  if  not  from  the  priest  in  the  opera  ?  and  what 
signifies  this  sparkling  gush  of  the  crystalline  tones 
in  the  fugue  bars  of  the  overture,  but  the  dance  of 
those  three  genii  who  greet  us  hereafter  in  the 
opera  with  their  heavenly  songs  ?     As  to  what  is 


1 96  TJie  Old  Faith  and  the  N'ew. 

commonly  said  concerning  tlie  wretchedness  of  the 
libretto  of  the  Zauberflöte,  it  is  over- wise  talk,  which 
one  person  repeats  after  another.  No  less  a  man  than 
Heo-el  has  long  ago  demonstrated  that  it  is,  on  the 
contrary,  a  very  good  text  for  an  opera.  The  strongly 
marked  Viennese  character  of  the  recitative  was  no 
embarrassment  to  Mozart,  and  its  interfusion  with 
the  Masonic  element  stirred  the  deepest  chords 
in  his  nature.  Moreover,  the  text  places  us  on  fairy 
ground ;  not  a  fairj-tale  of  natural  growth,  it  is  true, 
but  of  artificial ;  but  to  which,  nevertheless,  is  ap- 
plicable the  saying  of  the  poet,  that  a  profound 
meaning  is  often  contained  in  childish  play.  The 
realm  of  the  Queen  of  Night  is  at  the  same  time  an 
intelligible  allusion  to  that  of  superstition  ;  while 
on  the  other  hand,  Sarastro,  with  his  priests,  repre- 
sents the  domain  of  reason  and  humanity.  Between 
the  two,  common-place  humanity  moves  to  and  fro, 
harmless  but  stupid,  deceived  by  the  one  side  and 
destined  to  find  truth  and  happiness  only  on  the 
other.  Each  of  these  three  realms  has  its  corre- 
sponding musical  expression,  each  of  which  helps  to 
support  and  elevate  that  of  the  other  two.  The 
childish  sportiveness  of  the  Papageno-world  con- 
trasts (j[uite  as  efiiciently  with  the  gloomy  passions 
of  the  realm  of  night  as  with  the  sublime  wisdom 


Appendix^  197 

of  tlie  initiated,  to  wliich  it  forms  the  indispensable 
foil.  A  calm  and  gentle  serenity,  however,  streams 
from  this  region  of  light  into  the  choruses  of  its 
priests,  tlie  songs  of  its  genii,  the  aria,  of  Sarastro, 
as  well  as  into  his  duetts  and  trios  with  Tamino 
and  Pamina,  which  in  very  sooth  open  heaven  to 
us.  A  felicity  such  as  we  feel  after  being  at  a  good 
representation  of  the  Zauberflöte,  is  experienced 
after  no  other  of  even  Mozart's  operas ;  and  this,  in 
my  judgment,  is  the  superiority  which  distinguishes 
it  from  its  rivals. 

103. 

As  Mozart  had  received  the  opera  out  of  Gluck's 
hands,  he  received  from  Haydn  orchestral  and 
chamber  music,  to  be  developed  by  him,  like  the 
other,  according  to  the  measure  of  his  surpassing 
genius.  If,  in  the  first  instance,  it  was  chiefly 
musical  opulence  which  he  had  to  add  to  the  some- 
what meagre  severity  of  his  predecessor,  it  was  the 
profounder  spiritual  element,  the  stirring  of  mightier 
emotions,  the  loftier  reconciliation,  which  we  here 
see  evolving  itself  from  the  cheerful  play  of  Haydn's 
humour  and  geniality. 

The  most  immediate  connection  with  his  prede- 
cessor is  in  his  quartetts,  the  first  collection  of  which 


1 98  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New. 

he  dedicated  to  him,  and  of  which  we  shall  still 
have  occasion  to  speak.  How  marvellous  a  man 
was  Mozart,  how  inconceivably  productive,  is  made 
nowhere  more  apparent  than  in  his  last  three  great 
symphonies.  In  six  summer  weeks  of  the  year 
1788,  he  composed  those  in  E,  in  G  minor,  and  in  C. 
We  know  that  these  symphonies  are  supreme  of 
their  kind,  and  that,  although  they  may  afterwards 
have  been  outbid,  they  were  never  outdone.  We 
know  further  that  each  of  them  is  radically  different 
from  the  others,  in  its  leading  motive  as  well  as  in 
its  execution.  In  that  one  in  E  there  is  nought 
but  bliss  and  brightness,  the  exuberant  melody 
being  an  expression  of  inner  health  and  strength ;  in 
that  one  in  G  minor  all  is  poignant  passion,  which  in 
alternate  but  ever  futile  attempts  at  calming  itself, 
rao-es  on  through  the  whole  of  the  four  movements  «^f 
the  piec^e;  finally,  in  the  one  in  C  there  is  from 
the  first  notes  a  soaring  upwards  into  pure  ether, 
dissolving  even  sorrow  in  its  limpid  element,  and 
transforming  the  terror  of  the  fierce  struggle  into 
exquisite  harmony.  And  what  we  said  of  the  three 
operas  holds  good  here  also :  none,  and  yet  each  of 
them,  is  the  most  beautiful,  because  each  of  them  is 
so  in  a  different  sense. 


Appendix.  igg 

104. 

Nothing  is  so  calculated  to  promote  tlie  de- 
velopment of  any  one  art  or  science  as  the  sim- 
ultaneous appearance,  or  rapid  succession  on  the 
same  field,  of  two  men  of  genius,  who,  being  both 
supremely  gifted,  are  vet  unlike  in  their  quali- 
ties. What  did  philosophy  not  owe  to  Aristotle's 
education  in  Plato's  school  ?  or  painting  to  the 
co-existence  of  a  Michael  Anofelo  with  a  Ra- 
phael  ?  or  German  poetry  again,  to  the  fact  that 
ten  years  after  Goethe,  Schiller  saw  the  light 
of  day  ?  Thus,  fortunately  for  music,  it  happened 
that  fourteen  years  after  Mozart,  Beethoven  was 
born. 

Rarely  have  Nature  and  Fate  made  two  men  of 
kindred  genius  such  complete  opposites.  First,  as 
regards  descent  and  family,  Mozart  was  born  into 
narrow  but  thoroughly  well-regulated  circum- 
stances ;  he  had  an  exemplary  father,  a  cheerful, 
comfortable  mother,  a  sister  of  great  musical  gifts  : 
in  Beethoven's  case  the  father  was  a  drunkard,  the 
mother  depressed  and  suffering,  the  brothers  run- 
nino"  wild  in  the  domestic  confusion.  Then  take 
their  temperaments  :  the  refined,  mobile,  sanguine 
Mozart,  and  the  blunt,  melancholy,  dull,  and  un- 


TOO  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New. 

manageable  Beethoven,  who  was  soon  to  be  still 
further  saddened  by  the  terrible  affliction  of  partial 
deafness,  isolating  him  even  more  from  his  kind, 
and  at  last  excluding  him  even  from  the  sensuous 
apprehension  of  his  own  works.  Here  it  might  have 
been  predicted  fi'om  the  first,  that  given  to  both  men 
the  same  artistic  talents,  the  second  nevertheless 
would  strike  out  a  very  different  path  from  the  first. 
But  to  this  was  added  a  profound  difference  in 
the  artistic  endowments  of  the  pair.  If  Mozart's 
universal  genius  extended  equally  to  vocal  and  in- 
strumental music,  in  Beethoven  the  preponderance 
evidently  inclmed  to  the  latter  side.  We  have 
only  one  opera,  and  a  few  songs  and  melodies,  as 
contrasted  with  an  enormous  amount  of  composi- 
tions for  the  piano  and  orchestra.  The  plastic 
formation  of  character,  the  regulated  movement  of 
a  dramatic  action,  as  well  as  the  limitation  to  a 
simply  lyrical  motive,  lay  less  in  Beethoven's  way 
than  the  boundlfess  expatiation  and  immersion  in 
thought  and  feeling ;  and  precisely  this  bias  found  a 
more  satisfactory  organ  in  the  orchestra  or  piano,  on 
account  of  its  greater  compass  and  variety,  than 
in  the  simple  and  narrow  range  of  the  human 
voice.  What  it  is  possible  for  instrumental  music  tc 
achieve  and  not  to  achieve, — in  a  word,  the  con- 


Appendix.  20i 

fines  of  music — were  first  revealed  to  us  by  Beet- 
hoven. 

For  Beethoven  did  not  invariably  aim  at  expres- 
sing musical  ideas  by  means  of  music.  Of  Mozart 
it  may  be  said  that  his  ideas  ahvays  came  to  him  in 
music — that  he,  as  the  poet  expresses  it,  thought 
in  sweet  tones.  But  Beethoven  had  besides  ideas 
which  needed  to  be  translated  into  music.  Mozart 
could  never,  therefore,  find  himself  in  the  predica- 
ment of  demanding  from  music  Vvdiat  was  beyond 
its  power  to  accomplish, — a  case  always  recur- 
ring with  Beethoven,  and  the  more  so  the  more 
he  advanced  in  years. 

Nor  is  this  all.  If  ever  an  artistic  genius  was  a 
favourite  of  the  Graces,  it  was  Mozart.  They  never 
let  go  of  him;  they  remain  unwaveringly  at  his 
side,  whether  amid  airy  sallies  he  revel  in  the  vale, 
or  rise  to  the  summits  or  sink  to  the  abysses  of 
the  most  tragic  earnestness.  Beethoven  they  may 
accompany  a  part  of  the  way,  but  then  again  lie 
loses  sight  of  them.  Especially  when  he  makes 
violent  efforts  to  express  by  music  what  as  purely 
such  it  cannot  express,  they  will  have  nothing 
more  to  do  with  him.  This  is  a  defect ;  but  would 
it  be  believed  that  it  may  also  appear  as  an  advan- 
tao-e  ?     If  I  know  that  it  is  the  same  weight  which, 


202  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New. 

being  easily  and  playfully  moved  by  one  person,  is 
by  another  moved  with  pain  and  difficulty,  then  I 
shall  judge  the  strength  of  the  first  to  be  the  greater. 
If,  however,  the  weight  of  the  respective  burdens 
handled  by  one  and  the  other  is  unknown  to  me,  I 
may  fancy  that  he  who  exerts  himself  to  the  utmost 
is  putting  the  greatest  weight  in  motion,  and  is, 
therefore,  stronger  than  he  who  seems  to  be  merely 
playing  with  his  burden.  But  who  shall  define  the 
precise  weight  of  a  musical  idea  ?  He  who  is  pain- 
fully and  breathlessly  rolling  it  along  will  seem  to 
be  moving  the  weightier  one,  and  thus  appear  to  be 
the  stronger. 

It  is  a  pity  that  one  is  compelled,  by  such  reser- 
vations, to  mar  one's  enjoyment  of  Beethoven,  as  well 
as  the  admiration  gladly  accorded  to  him ;  but  the 
blame  of  this  must  be  borne  by  his  false  admirers, 
who  have  extolled  and  commended  to  imitation 
just  the  least  admirable  and  imitable  portion  of  his 
work.     We  shall  soon  have  more  to  say  of  this. 

105. 

It  is  well  known  that  the  number  of  Beethoven's 

symphonies  is  that  of  the  Muses.     If  we  review 

them  in  the  order  of  their  production,  we  shall  be 

struck  by  finding  in  them  a  kind  of  law  of  progres- 


Appendix.  203 

sion.  Beethoven,  that  is  to  say,  for  two  consecutive 
symphonies,  was  able  to  conform  himself  in  general 
to  the  nsnal  methods,  in  spite  of  all  his  improve- 
ments in  the  parts  ;  bnt  each  time,  in  composing  the 
third,  he  seemed  impelled  to  exceed  His  bounds,  and 
depart  on  an  adventurous  quest.  In  the  first  two 
symphonies,  in  G  and  B,  the  growing  peculiarity 
of  the  young  master  is  still  combined  with  the 
moderation  and  grace  of  his  predecessor:  but  the 
third  one  is  the  Eroica.  In  his  fourth  one,  in  B, 
he  again  returned  into  the  beaten  track,  abode 
there  also  in  the  fifth — the  magnificent  symphony 
in  (7 minor ;  but  then,  as  sixth,  follows  the  Pastorale. 
And  likewise,  after  the  powerful  A  symphon}^,  and 
that  in  F,  the  seventh  and  eighth,  there  follows  the 
famous  ninth  symphony,  with  choruses. 

The  Eroica,  and  more  distinctly  still  the  Pas- 
torale, are,  as  is  well  known,  so-called  "  Programme 
Symphonies,"  and  if  we  give  ear  to  certain  recent 
theoretical  writers,  as,  for  example,  to  Beethoven's 
biographer  Marx,  the  progress  which  he  eftected  in 
the  development  of  music  consists  chiefly  in  his  be- 
coming the  creator  of  this  genre.  Well,  if  that  were 
Beethoven's  great  achievement  in  regard  to  music, 
he  would  deserve  but  little  praise,  as  he  has  thereby 
set  a  most  pernicious  example.     The  composer  who 


204  The  Old  Faith  -and  the  New, 

implies  a  distinct  relation  to  object  in  a  symphony, 
or  any  other  instrumental  composition  which  has 
not  at  least  a  mediate  connection  with  words — such 
as  an  ovei-ture  to  an  opera  or  a  drama — resigns  the 
advantages  of  that  species  of  music,  without  being 
able  to  supplement  the  want.  Vocal  music  deals 
with  known  figures,  pure  instrumental  music  with 
unknown  objectless  ones,  which  are,  however,  ap- 
plicable to  all  manner  of  objects.  The  want  of  a 
definite  object,  which  the  absence  of  words  must 
necessarily  cause — this  indefiniteness — constitutes, 
in  fact,  its  infinity.  It  opens  out  an  immeasurable 
perspective;  and  he  who  supplies  it  with  a  pro- 
gramme lets  a  coarsely  painted  curtain  drop  in 
front  of  tliis  prospect. 

Beethoven's  intention  in  the  Eroica  is  to  depict  the 
life  of  a  hero ;  in  the  Pastorale,  again,  a  day  passed 
in  the  country.  Words  and  actions,  however,  in  other 
words,  the  opera,  or  at  least  the  oratorio,  are  requisite 
to  bring  clearly  before  us  the  life  of  a  hero  ;  and  this  is 
the  case  with  the  representation  of  country  life  as  well. 
It  is  true  that  a  symphony  without  words  can  never- 
theless give  expression  to  heroic  sentiments  and  aspi- 
rations, but  in  that  case  it  will  be  indefinite  whether 
this  heroism  is  outward  or  inward,  whether  this  con- 
flict takes  place  on  the  open  field  or  in  the  deep  heart 


Appendix.  205 

of  man.  Beethoven  himself  has,  in  the  finale  of  his 
symphony  in  G  minor,  given  us  a  jubilee  of  victory 
surpassing  in  intensity  anything  contained  in  his 
Eroica,  its  effect  being  all  the  more  powerful  because 
we  may  take  it  as  we  please.  The  clerg3anen  in 
Wurtemberg  used,  in  my  time,  at  the  conclusion  of 
the  sermon,  and  in  passing  on  to  the  Pater  Noster, 
to  have  a  formula :  "  Let  every  one  include  in  this 
what  he  may  be  weighing  on  his  heart  or  conscience, 
and  pray  in  the  name  of  Jesus  also."  I  always  think 
of  this  formula  when  the  peculiarity  of  instru- 
mental music,  and  especially  of  the  symphony,  is 
discussed. 

Beethoven  ridiculed  Haydn's  sound-painting  in 
the  Creation ;  and  in  his  Pastorale  he  himself 
attempted  the  same  kind  of  thing.  He  certainly 
in  the  programme,  as  if  to  appease  his  conscience, 
calls  it  "rather  an  expression  than  a  painting 
of  sentiment ; "  but  we  nevertheless  have  tones 
in  imitation  of  the  nightingale,  the  quail,  the 
cuckoo :  and  how  much  less  do  they  come  home  to  us 
than  those  of  Father  Haydn  !  For  if  he  once  has  a 
day  of  merry-making  with  his  young  folk,  it  does 
not  in  the  least  infringe  on  his  dignity,  if  peradven- 
ture  a  frisk}'  grandson  should  seize  hold  of  his  little 
pig-tail ;  but  how  ill  does  such  child's  play  become 


2o6  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New, 

the  grave,  grim  Beethoven !  Next,  the  thunder- 
storm. 

"  ^^^lo  in  the  storm  lets  human  passions  rage  ? " 

asks  the  poet.  But  of  the  symphony  it  ought  really 
to  be  said,  that  in  it  the  storm  ought  to  rave  as  pas- 
sion— that,  in  fact,  it  ought  to  remain  undetermined 
whether  it  be  an  outward  or  an  inward  tempest. 
In  the  PastoraUy  however,  the  tempest  has  nothing 
whatever  to  do  with  passion,  as  it  merely  interrupts 
— a  dance  of  country-folk.  This,  surely,  is  almost  too 
insignificant  for  such  a  furiously  raging  storm ;  and 
indeed  the  Pastoral  Symphony,  in  spite  of  copious 
melody  and  all  its  beauties  of  detail,  is  yet,  on  ac- 
count of  this  closing  up  of  the  perspective,  and  its 
arbitrary  connection  with  a  trivial  motive,  the  least 
remarkable  (to  speak  with  becoming  modesty)  of 
Beethoven's  symphonies. 

The  ninth  symphony  is  naturally  the  favourite 
of  a  prevalent  taste,  which  in  art,  and  music  espe- 
cially, mistakes  the  grotesque  for  the  genial,  and 
the  formless  for  the  sublime.  But  even  so  severe 
a  critic  as  Gervinus  (in  his  essay  on  Handel  and 
Shakspeare)  makes  it  welcome ;  not,  indeed,  that  he 
considers  it  a  successful  work  of  art,  but  as  instru- 
mental music's  confession  of  her  own  nothingness 
when  unaided  by  words  and  the  human  voice,  thus 


Appendix,  207 

ratifying  the  doctrine  of  Gervinus,  that  the  branch- 
ing out  of  this  music  into  an  independent  art  is  an 
error.  I  have  demonstrated  in  another  place  that 
instrumental  music  is  very  well  fitted  to  solve  for 
itself  the  problems  suited  to  it,  and  that  if,  as  in 
the  above-mentioned  symphony,  it  is  subsequently 
still  considered  necessary  to  super-add  the  human 
voice,  this  only  arises  from  the  fact  that  too  much 
has  been  exacted  from  it. 

Therefore,  far  from  going  to  these  problematic  pro- 
ductions in  search  of  the  services  which  Beethoven 
rendered  the  symphony,  we  shall  discover  them 
rather  to  be  in  those  others,  where  (by  an  increase 
of  the  orchestra,  greater  independence  given  to  the 
instrumental  groups,  prolongation  of  the  component 
members  of  a  movement,  by  the  keener  dialectics  of 
the  thoughts,  as  well  as  the  more  profound  appeal 
to  the  emotions)  he  enlarged  and  heightened  with- 
out, however,  shattering  and  destroying  the  cus- 
tomary form  and  mode  of  conception.  The  symphony 
in  G  minor  and  that  in  A  are,  besides  the  earlier 
ones,  those  wherein  we  recognize  the  full  grandeur, 
the  Titanic  power  of  Beethoven.  And  as  was  the  case 
with  Mozart's  three  great  symphonies,  we  shall  not  be 
able  to  determine  to  which  of  these  two  of  Beethoven's 
(to  which  may  still,  as  equally  fine,  be  added  his 


2o8  The  Old  Faith  and  ihe  New. 

music  to  Goethe's  Egmont)  to  give  the  preference. 
If  in  the  C  minor  Symphony  the  triumphant  finale 
is  unij:pie  of  its  kind,  the  same  may  be  said  of  the 
mysterious  allegretto  of  the  second  movement  in 
A;  while  in  the  music  to  Egmont,  Beethoven's 
yearning  for  political  liberty  is  expressed  with 
iiTCsistible  pathos. 

106. 
Beethoven  remarked  that  he  could  never  have 
composed  a  text  like  Figaro  or  Don  Giovanni.  Life 
had  not  been  so  profuse  of  its  smiles  to  him,  that 
he  could  afford  to  treat  it  so  gaily,  or  deal  so  lightly 
with  the  foibles  of  men.  His  field  was  the  night 
side,  not  so  much  of  human  nature,  as  of  human 
passions  and  destinies.  "  The  whole  misery  of  man 
seizes  hold  of  me,"  we  ejaculate,  on  hearing  the 
Chorus  of  Captives  in  Fidelio.  It  is  indeed  a  tragic 
piece,  such  as  could  have  been  given  us  by  neither 
Mozart  nor"  Gluck,  and  one  of  the  gems  of  operatic 
music.  Nine  years  elapsed  ere  the  opera  had  been 
moulded  from  its  first  form  into  its  present  shape ; 
and  no  less  than  four  overtures  were  composed  for 
it.  And  further,  from  the  fact  that  this  remained 
Beethoven's  sole  opera,  we  shall  infer  that  he  was 
not  here  on  the  native  soil  of  his  talent.      But  how 


Appendix,  209 

splendid  is  tins  single  specimen  of  his  genius  in 
this  branch  !  We  do  not,  indeed,  float  here  in  an 
ocean  of  sweet  sounds,  as  in  Mozart's  operas,  but 
still  there  roar  round  us  mighty  currents  of  har- 
mony. And  we  come  away  from  its  representation 
moved  and  shaken  to  the  very  depths  ;  in  no  other 
opera  are  the  musical  and  ethical  element  so  closely 
united. 

Nowhere  do  the  three  composers  last  discussed — 
Haydn,  Mozart,  Beethoven — challenge  comparison  so 
much  as  in  their  quartetts.  Only  one  symphony 
can  be  conveniently  performed  at  a  concert ;  com- 
positions for  the  piano  are  usually  introduced  sepa- 
rately in  the  intervals  between  other  pieces ;  while 
three  quartetts,  on  the  other  hand,  are  just  the  right 
length  for  an  evening  entertainment ;  and  if  these 
should  be  selected  from  the  three  above-mentioned 
masters,  then  we  are  treated  to  one  of  the  most  ex- 
quisite enjoyments  possible  in  the  range  of  art.  For 
in  that  case  we  have  presented  to  us  the  three  stages 
of  a  normal  development — three  masters,  each  of 
whom  steps  on  to  the  shoulders  of  his  predecessor: 
it  is,  as  it  were,  the  bud,  blossom  and  fruit,  which 
we  see  successively  springing  from  each  other.  At 
the  same  time,  it  by  no  means  follows  that  the 
successor  merely  excels  his  predecessor  in  absolute 

VOL,  II.  p 


2IO  T.\e  Old  Faith  and  the  A\w, 

merit  of  execution  :  for  although  the  successor  pro- 
gresses, and  adds  something  of  his  own,  yet  the  pre- 
cursor has  always  a  special  excellence  which 
cannot  be  improved  upon  by  his  successor,  and  in 
which  he  continues  paramount.  This  limpidity, 
genial  ease,  humour,  are  pre-eminently  the  attri- 
butes of  our  old,  perennially  youthful  Haydn;  in 
these  he  has  not  been  surpassed  by  Mozart,  Avho 
adds  a  profounder  spiritualization,  and  greater 
musical  richness  and  refinement ;  as  little  as 
Beethoven  himself,  by  his  mightier  sweep  of  pas- 
sion, his  subtler  introspection,  his  astounding  effects, 
can  supply  the  tender  grace  of  Mozart.  It  i^ 
a  pity  that  in  our  quartett-soirees  this  progTamme 
is  now  very  rarely  observed,  and  that  especially 
Haydn,  the  corner-stone  of  quartett-music,  should 
so  readily  be  omitted.  The  performance  is  then 
commenced  with  Mozart,  or  directly  with  Beethoven 
even,  as  if  we  were  to  begin  a  repast  with  cham- 
pagi  e  and  sweetmeats,  instead  of  a  good  unpre- 
tending soup.  Space  must  be  made,  certainly,  for 
more  recent  composers ;  it  would  be  unfair  to  wish 
to  exclude  a  Schuber i,  a  Mendelssohn  from  our 
quartett  entertainments.  But  as  a  rule  the  pro- 
gramme should  nevertheless  observe  the  above- 
mentioned  order;   and   if  one   of  the   three  must 


Appefidix,  2 1  s 

be  omitted  in  favour  of  a  more  modern  composer, 
let  it  sometimes  be  Beethoven,  rarely  Mozart,  never 
Haydn. 

107. 

I  have  tarried  longer  among  our  poets  and  com- 
posers than  has  perhaps  been  quite  satisfactory  to 
the  kind  reader;  and  if  I  now  promise  to  be  all  the 
more  concise  in  what  I  have  still  left  to  say,  this, 
perhaps,  will  be  equally  unsatisfactory  to  him.  For 
all  sorts  of  things  may  possibly  still  be  weighing 
on  his  mind ;  he  may,  although  he  has  felt  impelled, 
on  the  whole,  to  place  himself  on  our  standpoint, 
still  harbour  many  scruples  which  trouble  him  at 
times,  and  of  which  he  would  gladly  have  taken 
this  occasion  to  get  rid. 

Yes,  truly,  in  the  ether  to  which  our  great  poets 
transport  us,  in  the  ocean  of  harmony  in  which  we 
are  enisled  by  our  great  composers,  all  earthly  woe 
vanishes  and  dissolves,  and  as  if  by  magic  we 
see  all  those  stains  removed  which  otherwise,  with 
all  our  labour,  we  cannot  w^pe  away.  But  this  is 
only  effected  for  some  fleeting  moments ;  it  happens 
and  counts  only  in  the  realms  of  phantasy ;  as  soon 
as  we  return  to  rude  reality  and  the  cramping  con- 
fines of  actual  life,  we  are  again  on  all  sides  assailed 


2 1 2  The  Old  Faith  and  the  N'ew» 

by  the  old  cares.  In  mitigation  of  the  pain  which 
the  consciousness  of  these  stains,  which  the  qualms 
of  conscience  prepare  for  us,  Christianity  offers  the 
atonement ;  it  opens  the  sheltering  arms  of  a  belief 
in  providence  to  the  timorous  feeling  of  abandon- 
ment to  the  rude  chances  of  this  world ;  while  at 
the  same  time  illuminating  the  dimness  of  this 
terrestrial  night  by  the  prospect  of  an  immortal 
life  in  heaven.  We  have  seen  that  the  sum- total 
of  these  consolations  must  irretrievably  vanish  on 
our  standpoint,  and  this  must  be  perceived  by 
every  one  who  has  placed  himself  on  it,  though  but 
with  one  foot.  He  will  ask,  however,  what  it  is  that 
we  on  our  side  have  to  offer  him  instead. 

But  after  all  that  he  has  read,  should  he  not  be 
able  to  answer  this  question  for  himself  ? 

Bodily  ailments  are,  no  doubt,  suddenly  and 
painlessly  removed  by  the  worker  of  miracles  or 
the  charlatan  ;  pity  only  that  afterwards  they 
remain  exactly  as  before:  the  physician  endea- 
vours to  get  rid  of  them  by  a  slow,  sometimes 
tedious,  sometimes  painful  treatment,  and  in  most 
cases  his  success  is  but  partial;  something,  how- 
ever, he  does  for  the  most  part  actually  succeed  in 
achieving.  He  who  has  once  apprehended  that  in 
the  moral  wc^rld  also  there  exists  no  such  mag-ic 


Appendix.  213 

formula  will,  amidst  the  stings  of  conscience,  cleave 
to  the  consolation  which  lies  in  the  consciousness  of 
an  incessant  and  earnest  endeavour;  and  the  very 
insufficiency  of  this  consolation  will  spur  him  on  to 
the  redoubling  of  his  efforts. 

The  loss  of  the  belief  in  providence  belongs,  in- 
deed, to  the  most  sensible  deprivations  which  are 
connected  with  a  renunciation  of  Christianity.  In 
the  enormous  machine  of  the  universe,  amid  the 
incessant  whirl  and  hiss  of  its  jagged  iron  wheels, 
amid  the  deafening  crash  of  its  ponderous  stamps 
and  hammers,  in  the  midst  of  this  whole  terrific 
commotion,  man,  a  helpless  and  defenceless  crea- 
ture, finds  himself  placed,  not  secure  for  a  moment 
that  on  an  imprudent  motion  a  wheel  may  not 
seize  and  rend  him,  or  a  hammer  crush  him  to 
powder.  This  sense  of  abandonment  is  at  first 
somethinof  awful.  But  then  what  avails  it  to  have 
recourse  to  an  illusion  ?  Our  wish  is  impotent  to 
refashion  the  world;  the  understanding  clearly 
shows  that  it  indeed  is  such  a  machine.  But  it  is 
not  merely  this.  We  do  not  only  find  the  revolu- 
tion of  pitiless  wheels  in  our  world-machine,  but 
also  the  sheddinor  of  soothino^  oil.  Our  God  does 
not,  indeed,  take  us  into  his  arms  from  the  out- 
side, but  he  unseals  the  well-springs   of  consola- 


2 1 4  The  Old  Faith  and  the  Ä^ew, 

ticm  within  our  own  bosoms.  He  shows  us  that 
although  Chance  would  be  an  unreasonable  ruler^ 
yet  that  Necessity,  or  the  enchainment  of  causes 
in  the  world,  is  Reason  herself.  He  teaches  us  to 
perceive  that  to  demand  an  exception  in  the 
accomplishment  of  a  single  natural  law,  would  be 
to  demand  the  destruction  of  the  universe.  Imper- 
ceptibly, at  last,  by  the  kindly  force  of  habit,  he 
leads  us  to  adapt  ourselves  also  to  a  less  perfect 
condition,  should  we  be  placed  in  such,  and  to  per- 
ceive at  last  tliat  only  the  form  of  our  frame  of 
mind  is  conditioned  by  external  circumstances,  that 
its  substance  of  happiness  or  unhappiness,  however, 
is  derived  from  within. 

Perhaps  the  longest  dissertation  will  be  ex- 
pected of  me  concerning  the  compensation  which 
our  conception  of  the  Universe  may  offer,  in 
place  of  the  Christian  belief  in  immortality,  but 
a  brief  remark  must  suffice  here.  He  who  cannot 
helj)  himself  in  this  matter  is  beyond  help,  is  not 
yet  ripe  for  our  standpoint.  He  who,  on  the  one 
hand,  is  not  satisfied  in  being  able  to  revive 
within  himself  the  eternal  ideas  of  the  Cosmos, 
of  the  progress  and  the  destinies  of  mankind ;  who 
cannot,  within  his  own  heart,  render  the  dead 
he    loved  and  worshipped  immortal  in  the  truest 


Appendix,  2 1 5 

sense;  who,  amid  liis  exertions  on  behalf  of  his 
family,  his  labours  in  his  calling,  his  co-o[)eration 
with  others  in  promoting  the  prosperity  of  his  coun- 
try as  well  as  the  general  welfare  of  his  fellow-crea- 
tures, and  lastly,  his  enjo^anent  of  the  beautiful  in 
art  and  nature — who,  amid  all  this,  I  say,  does  not, 
become  conscious  that  he  himself  is  onl}^  called  to 
particiiDate  in  it  for  a  span  of  time,  who  cannot 
prevail  upon  himself  finally  to  depart  this  life  in 
gratitude  for  all  that  was  given  him,  with  others, 
for  a  time  to  perform,  enjoy,  and  suffer  conjointly 
with  others,  yet,  nevertheless,  glad  also  to  be 
freed  from  the  toil  of  the  long  day's  work  that 
must  at  last  exhaust, — well,  him  we  must  remit 
to  Moses  and  the  prophets,  who  themselves  knew 
nothing  of  immortality,  and  yet  were  Moses  and 
the  prophets  still. 

108. 
l^ow  will  I  bid  my  readers  farewell,  after  once 
more  tendering  due  thanks  to  those  among  them  who 
have  remained  with  me  to  the  last.  Perseverance 
was  certainly  requisite  for  this,  for  they  have  accom- 
panied me  on  a  long  and  (saving  the  last  stages, 
through  the  pleasant  gardens  of  our  poetry  and 
music)    a   fatiguing  journey.     For  neither  tlie  old 


2  1 6  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New, 

worn  road,  to  which  the  Creed  may  be  compared,  nor 
a  freshly-constructed  one,  8uch  as  the  modern 
scientific  Cosmic  conception,  are  conducive  to  ease 
and  celerity  of  travel.  There  one  sinks  every 
moment  into  deep  ruts,  is  impeded  by  gaps  and 
runnels  which  have  been  worn  by  rain  and  wild 
gushing  waters ;  it  is  true,  we  found  the  places  that 
had  been  damaged  partly  repaired;  but  all  this 
was  mere  patchwork,  and  could  no  longer  obviate 
the  essential  faults  of  the  road,  its  defective  ground- 
work, and  devious  course.  The  engineers  of  the 
new  route  have  endeavoured  to  avoid  these  mis- 
takes ;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  many  of  its  parts  are 
very  roughly  constructed  or  not  constructed  at  all : 
here  a  chasm  must  still  be  filled  in,  there  a  rock 
blown  up,  and  all  through,  one  is  much  jolted  by  the 
newly  laid  stones,  whose  sharp  edges  have  not  yet 
been  worn  away  by  constant  friction.  ]^or  will  I 
assert  that  the  coach  to  which  my  esteemed  readers 
have  been  obliged  to  entrust  themselves  with  me, 
fulfilled  every  requirement.  Nevertheless,  should 
our  truthful  report  draw  an  ever-increasing  number 
of  followers  to  this  highway ;  should  the  convic- 
tion sprer.d  abroad  that  it  alone  is  the  future  high- 
way 0^  r.be  world,  wliich  now  only  requires  partial 
comple»  on,  and    especially  general   use,   in   order 


Appendix,  217 

to  become  easy  and  pleasant — while  all  tlie  trouble 
and  expense  still  lavished  on  the  repair  of  the  old 
route  must  inevitably  be  wa3'>*d  und  lost, — should 
such  be  the  results  of  our  undertaking,  we  shall 
not,  I  think,  have  cause  to  regret,  at  the  end,  our 
having  accomplished  together  the  long  and  toilsome 
journey. 


THE  ENIX 


INDEX. 


VOL.    I. 

PAGE 

I.  Prefatory  Postscript  .  .  .  .  .    iii 

1,  2.  Introduction       .  ,  ,  ,  ,  1, 6 

3.  Division  of  the  Subject         ,  ,  ,  ,11 

Answer  to  tlie  question  : 

I.  Are  we  still  Christians  ? 

4.  The  Apostles'  Creed.     The  Trinity  .  .  ,13 

5.  The  First  Article.     God  the  Father  and  Creator. 

The  History  of  Creation  .  .  .  .16 

6.  The  Inspiration  of  the  Scriptures     ,  ,  .18 

7.  The  Fall  of  Man.     The  Devil  .  .  .21 

8.  Original  Sin  .  ...     24 

9.  Second  Article  of  the  Apostles'  Creed.     The  Doc- 

trine of  the  Advent  of  a  Messiah  .  .     26 

10,  11.  The  Atonement  and  the  Atoning  Death  28,  30 

12.  Third  Article.     The  Church  and  the  Word  of  God. 

Faith  and  Justification.     The  Sacraments  .     32 

13.  The  Resurrection.     Eternal  Life  and  Eternal  Dam- 

nation       .  .  .  .  .  .35 

14.  Dissent  from  the  Creed.     Deists  and  Freethinkers. 

H.  S.  Remiarus     ,  «  «  ,  .38 

15.  Rationalism    .  .  ,  ,  ,  ,41 

16.  Biblical  Criticism      ,  .  .  .  .44 

17.  Schleiermacher.     His  Christology    ,  .  .47 

18 .  Schleiermacher  and  the  Gospels.     His  predilection 

for  the  fourth  Gospel        .  .  .51 


2  20  Index, 

PAGE 

19.  The  Life  of  Jesus       .  .  .  .  .53 

20.  The  Jesus  of  the  fourth,  and  he  of  the  first  three 

Gospels.     Mythical  elements  in  the  Gospels      .     56 

21.  Contradictions  in  the  Gospels.     The  Influence  of 

the  conflict  betAveen  Hebrew-Christianity  and 
Paulinism  on  the  Gospels.  .  .  .59 

22.  The  Tendencies  of  the  Gospels         ,  .  .64 

23.  Buddhism  and  Christianity  .  .  .  .66 

24.  Duahsm  in  Christianity.     Christianity  and   Com- 

merce. Christianity  and  Civic  Virtues.  Chris- 
tianity and  Culture  .  .  .  .69 

25.  The   Kingdom   of  the  Messiah.     The  Coming  of 

Christ  in  the  Clouds  .  .  .  .76 

26.  The  Death  of   Jesus   and  the  Disposition   of  his 

Disciples.  Origin  of  the  Belief  in  his  Resurrec- 
tion. The  Resurrection  of  Jesus  regarded  from 
an  historical  point  of  view  .  .  .79 

27.  The   Expectation  of  his  Return.     The    Christian 

and  Modern  Conception  of  the  Universe.  .     83 

28.  The  Insufiiciency  of  our  Information  concerning 

Jesus         .  .  .  .  .  .87 

29.  The   Elements   of   Enthusiasm  in    his   Character. 

The  Incompleteness  of  the  Reformers'  Stand- 
point .  .  ■  .  .  .  .9] 

30.  Charity  manifested  by  Christianity.     Christianity 

and  Hunianitarianism       .  .  .  .95 

31.  Christian  Worship  and  the  present  Cosmic  Concep- 

tion .  .  •  •  •  .    98 

Answer  to  the  question  : 

II.  Have  we  still  a  Religion? 

32.  Origin  of  Religion.     Man  and  Nature.     First  De- 

velopment of  Religion      ....  108 

33.  Polytheism  and  Monotheism.   Their  relative  value  .  1J5 


Index.  221 

PAGB 

34.  The    Religions  and  the  Philosophical  Conception 

of  God.  The  Beginning  of  the  Decomposition 
of  the  Conception  of  God.  Astronomy  and  the 
Personal  Deity      .  .  .  .  .  121 

35.  Prayer  and  the  Personal  God.     Kant  and  Prayer  .  125 

36.  The  Old  Arguments  in  favour  of  the  Existence  of 

God  .  .  .  .  .  .130 

37.  The    Conceptions    of   God   in  recent  Philosophy. 

Kant.  Fichte.  Schelling.  Hegel.  Schleier- 
macher. The  Belief  in  Immortality.  Argu- 
ments in  favour  of  Immortality  .  .  .  135 

38.  Goethe's  Belief  in  Immortality.  Further  Evidences.  146 

39.  The  Essence  of  Religion.     Schleiermacher.     Feuer- 

bach ......  153 

40.  Truth   and   Untruth   of  Religion.     Religion   and 

Culture      ......  156 

41.  The   Permanent  in  Religion.     Man  and  the  All. 

Schopenhauer  and  Religion  •  •  ,  161 

Answer  to  the  question  : 
III.  What  is  our  Conception  of  the  Universe  1 

42.  The  World  and  the  Worlds  .  .  .  .169 

43.  Kant's  Cosmogony.     Destruction  and  Renovation  .  174 

44.  The  Formation  of  our  Solar  System  according  to 

Kant.  Kant  and  Laplace.  The  Cosmic  Confla- 
grations according  to  the  Stoics  and  the  Bud- 
dhists        .  .  .  .  .  .  178 

45.  The  Origin  of  the  Planets  and  Satellites.     Contrac- 

tion and  Refrigeration      ....  182 

46.  The  Milky  Way.     Double  Stars.     Nebulae.     Pre- 

sumptive Inhabitants  of  the  Planets.  Gradation 
of  Rank  among  the  Planetary  Inhabitants  ac- 
cording to  Kant    .  .  .  .  .  1 86 

47.  The  Formation  of  the  Earth  and  its  Periods  .  193 


222  Index, 

PAGB 

48.  Origin  of  Life  on  the  Earth.     Generatio  cequivoca. 

The  Organic  and  Inorganic  .  .  .  193 

49.  Development  and  Evolution  .  .  .  200 

50.  The  Darwinian  Theory  and  its  Merits.     Lamarck, 

the  Precursor  of  Darwin                .  ,             .  202 

51.  Goethe  as  a  Precursor  of  Darwin     ,  ,             .  206 

52.  Kant  as  a  Precursor  of  Darwin        .  .             .  210 

53.  The  Origin  of  the  Darwinian  Theory.  Ai'tificial 

and  Natural  Selection       ....  213 

54.  The  Struggle  for  Existence  .  .  .  .216 

55.  Advance  and  Divergence  in  Organization  produced 

by  the  Struggle  for  Existence       .  •  .  219 

56.  Moritz  Wagner's  Law  of  Migration  •  •  220 


VOL.    II. 

57.  Terrestrial  Periods  and  Succession  of  Strata.    Fossil 

Men  .  .  .  .  .  .       1 

58.  The  Ape  and  Man.     Darwin's  Theory  concerning 

the  Descent  of  Man  from  the  Ape  .  .       4 

59.  Shortest  Steps  and  Longest  Periods  of  Time  .       8 

60.  The  Metamorphosis  of  the  Animal  into  the  Man, 

Difference  and  Affinity  between  the  Animal  and 
Man  ..... 

6L  The  Soul       ..... 

62.  Materialism  and  Idealism.  Dualism  and  Monism, 
Physical  Science  and  Philosophy 

G3.  The  Conception  of  Design  in  Natural  Science 

64.  Active  and  Final  Causes.     Darwin's  Elimination  of 

Theology  from  Nature      .  .  ,  .26 

65,  66.  The  Final  Cause  of  the  World  .  ,  29,  34 


Index.  223 


Answer  to  the  question  : 

IV.  What  is  our  Rule  of  Life? 

67.  Low  Beginning  of  the  Human  Race.  SociabiUty  and 

Necessity.    First  Development  of  Moral  Qualities     39 

68.  The  Decalogue.    Foremost  Ethical  Precej^t  of  Jesus     44 

69.  The  Stoical  and  the  Kantian  Principle  of  Morality. 

The  Fundamental  Moral  Impulse  according  to 
Schopenhauer         .  .  .  .  .47 

70.  The  Basis  of  Morality.     Morality  and  Religion     .     51 

71.  The  Position  of  Man  in  Nature.     Knowledge  and 

Sway  of  Nature.     Man  and  the  Animal  Kingdom    55 

72.  Man  and  Sensualism  .  .  ,  .60 

73.  Sensualism  in  the  Relation  of  the  Sexes.     Marriage 

and  Divorce  .  .  .  .  .64 

74.  Races   and   Nations.     Conquerors.     War  and  the 

Peace  Congress     .  .  ,  .  .71 

75.  The  Principle  of  Nationality  and  the  Internationals     76 

76.  The  Best  Constitution.     Monarchy  and  Republic  .     82 

77.  The  Value  of  a  Monarchical  form  of  Government .     86 

78.  The  Aristocracy  and  the  Middle  Class         .    .         .90 

79.  The  Working  Classes  and  the  Labour  Question      ,     95 

80.  Social  Democracy  and  Equality  among  Men  ,  101 

81.  Universal  Sujtfrage     .....  105 

82.  Capital    Punishment    and    the   Agitation  for  its 

Abolition   ....  .  Ill 

83.  Church  and  State.     Supposed  Indispensableness  of 

the  Church.  .....  115 

84.  What  is  our  Attitude  towards  the  Church  X     What 

are  our  means  of  Compensation  for  the  Church  .  119 

First  Appendix.    Of  our  Great  Poets. 

85.  Foreign  and  Native  Poetry.   German  skill  in  Trans- 

lation.    Ancient  and  Modern  German  Poetry    .  125 

86.  Lessing 129 


2  24  Index, 

PAGS 

87.  Goethe.     His  Importance.     His  Works       •  .  132 

88.  Goethe  as  a  Lyrical  Poet       ....  134 

89.  Goethe's  Dramatic  Works.     Faust   .  .  .  137 

90.  Goethe's  Novels.     Werther.     Wilhelm  Meister      .  139 

91.  The  Elective  Affinities.     Hermann  and  Dorothea  .  144 

92.  Dichtung  und   Wahrheit.     Italian  Journey.     Cam- 

paign in  France    .....  149 

93.  Goethe's  Correspondence.     That  between   Goethe 

and  Schiller.    Goethe's  letters  to  Frau  von  Stein, 
etc.     Goethe  as  Artist  and  Man  .  .  .  153 

94.  Schiller  and  Goethe.     Scldller  as  a  Lyrist.     The 

Song  of  the  Bell  .  .  .  .  .158 

95.  Schiller's  Ballads.     Schiller  as  a  Narrator   ,  .  164 

96.  Schiller's  Dramas      .  .  .  .  .168 

97.  Schiller's   Historical   and   .^sthetico-philosophical 

Writings.     His  Letters.     W.  von  Humboldt  on 
Scldller      .  .  .  .  .  .174 

Second  Appendix.     Of  our  Great  Composers. 

98.  Germany  and  Music.     Bach  and  Handel     .  .  177 

99.  Gluck.     His  Reform  of  the  Opera.     His  Character 

and  liis  Worth       .....  180 

100.  Haydn.     His    Orchestral   Music.     His   Oratorios. 

The  Creation  .....  183 

101.  Mozart.     His  Life  and  Character     .  .  .189 

102.  Mozart's    Operas.     Figaro.     Don    Giovanni.     The 

Magic  Flute  .  .  .  .  .191 

103.  His  Symphonies         .....  197 

104.  IMozart  and  Beethoven.     Beethoven's  Character     .  199 

105.  Beethoven's  Symphonies.     The  Programme  Sym- 

phonies :  the    Eroica  and   the   Pastorale.     The 
Ninth  Symphony.     Music  to  Egmont     .  .  202 

106.  Beethoven's    Fidelio.     The    tlu-ee    great    Masters 

and  the  Quartet.    •  •  ,  ,  .  208 

107.  108.  Conclusion         i  •  •  .       211,  215 


JUST    PÖBLISHED: 

RECENT    MUSIC    AND    MUSICIANS,   as  described  in 

the  Diaries  and  Correspondence  of  Ignaz  Moscheles.    Selected  by  his  wife,  and 
adapted  from  the  original  German  by  A.  D.  Colebidge.     12mo,  cloth,  §2.00. 

"Not  only  musical  enthusiasts,  but  every  one  who  has  the  faintest  glimmer  of  a  love 
for  music  and  art  will  welcome  with  delight  this  volume.  It  is  a  personal  history  of 
music  for  sixty  years  of  this  century— full  of  the  names  of  artists  and  composers,  each 
of  them  a  centre  of  pleasurable  emotions." — Examiner. 

"A  valuable  book  of  reference  for  the  musical  historian,  for  the  contents  extend 
over  a  period  of  three-score  years,  commencing  with  1794  and  ending  at  1870.  We  need 
scarcely  state  that  all  the  portions  of  Moscheles'  diary  which  refer  to  his  intercourse 
with  Beethoven,  Hummel,  Weber,  Czerny,  Spontini,  Ilossini,  Auber.  Ilalevy,  Schumann, 
Cherubini,  Spohr,  Mendelssohn,  F.  David.  Chopin,  J.  B.  Cramer,  Clementi,  John 
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Thalberg,  Berlioz,  Velutti,  C.  Young,  Balfe,  Braham,  and  many  other  artists  of  note  m 
their  time,  will  recall  a  flood  of  recollections.  It  was  a  deUcate  task  for  Mada'jie 
Moscheles  to  select  from  the  diaries  in  referenae  to  living  persons,  but  her  extracts  have 
been  judiciously  made.  Moscheles  A\Tites  fairly  of  what  is  called  the  "Music  t-f  the 
Future'  audits  disciples,  and  his  judgments  on  HeiT  Wagner,  Dr.  Liszt,  Rubinstein, 
Dr.  von  Bülow,  Litolfif,  &c..  whether  as  composers  or  execiitants,  are  in  a  liberal  spirit. 
He  recognizes  cheerfully  the  talents  of  our  native  artists,  Sir  Sterr.dale  Bennett,  Mr. 
Macfarren,  Madame  Arabella  Goddard,  Mr.  John  Barnett,  Mr,  HuUah,  Mrs.  Shaw, 
Mr.  A.  Sullivan,  &c.  The  celebrities  with  whom  Moscheles  came  in  contact,  and  of 
whom  we  get  a  passing  glimpse,  include  Sir  Walter  Scott,  Sir  Robert  Peel,  the  late 
Duke  of  Cambridge,  the  Bun^ens,  Louis  Philippe,  the  Emperor  Napoleon  the  Third, 
Humboldt,  Henry  Heine,  Thomas  Moore,  Count  Nesselrode,  the  Duchess  of  Orleans, 
Zelter,  Prof.  Wolff,  &c.  Indeed,  the  volume  is  full  of  amusing  anecdotes,"— /li/if?'«E?<m. 
"  Full  of  pleasant  gossip.  The  diary  and  letters  between  them  contain  notices  and 
criticisms  on  almost  every  musical  celebrity  of  the  last  half  century.  Of  all  Moscheles' 
recollections,  none  are  so  interesting  as  those  of  Mendelssohn." — Pall  Mall  Gazette. 

"The  most  captivating  book  ever  published,  for  people  interested  in  music  and 
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